Star Fox: Generations
by xSimon
Summary: In a star system on the verge of galactic war, the son of a legendary mercenary is forced to leave his old life behind and escape into the violent underworld of solar profiteering. Stalked by rival companies and the dark assassins of a maniacal emperor, he must gradually step into the boots of a legend and recruit allies to wage war on the man who betrayed and murdered his father.
1. Prologue

_**The following is an in depth, partly re-imagined, MOSTLY faithful narrative version of the individual game that truly set this franchise soaring into the annals of legend (in short, this is purely following the content provided in StarFox64, nothing from the sequels... well, for Book 1, at least). I wrote this originally for my little bro. This is my first flight for fan-fiction... enjoy.  
**_

**Prologue -**

Within a cavern of a lucid green light, the emperor basked in one particular domain of his liking. Shadows melded within an emerald luminescence, the source of its light unknown to all except the emperor himself.

He was a man of no personal taste apart from the desire to see his home, the Lylat System, resemble the eternal abyss of space – an empty realm of countless possibilities. To meld the universe to his will had been the dream of many men. For the emperor, it was more than just a dream—it was established.

_"__You have done it, my Lord," _the feeble voice of a servant echoed into his ears and burrowed into his limitless mind. _"You have defeated him, at last."_

He didn't answer the lesser being in words, but rather his silence made up a perfect answer. Silence was his way of feeling content.

"Has it been done completely?" he eventually asked.

_"__My Lord, I cannot say. His subordinate has not been found."_

"The other has escaped, then?"

There was a pathetic pause in the servant's voice.

The emperor decided to pass the question. "What of the son?"

_"__Our eyes have finally discovered him, my Lord. He is on Corneria. Just a shadow under the boot of a weak regime."_

"What have you done so far to correct this mistake?"

_"__Nothing so far, my Lord. With the deepest respect, we were hoping you would make your intentions clear to us in words."_

The emperor was without emotion. He possessed none of it. But such a stupid request coming from a mere expendable tool made him wish to paint his cavern of solace red with fresh blood.

There would be plenty of time for redecoration. Now was the time to correct the flaws which Lylat brandished like birth defects. Disorder was not an incurable disease. The emperor knew the possibilities regarding everything as well as which possibilities were more likely to happen than others. Life and death—he knew which would come to pass regarding the first and greatest step in bringing the galaxy to a new order—an order it has never known, one which has been delayed long enough by a single, distinct bloodline.

"Bring me his body," the emperor made his intentions perfectly clear. "Bring me the son of James McCloud."


	2. Chapter 1

**1 -**

A long loud buzzer continued to vibrate the tunnels throughout the station, the way ahead becoming illuminated under a shroud of crimson light.

A pair of metallic doors slid open to reveal the bridge, an ovular command center holding two dozen different personnel and twice the amount of computer terminals. The entire staff was moving about like hectic soldier ants on a mission, each man and woman joggling to their posts as if their very lives depended on it.

Pepper took his entrance and was immediately welcomed with quick salutes from the nearest naval hounds.

"General, sir."

A hound commander by the name of Rosenburg approached him from the front, offering a salute and making way for his approach.

"Where is he now?" he asked the commander while moving farther into the bridge, several passing lieutenants offering their quick respects before continuing on.

"Three minutes away and closing, sir."

"Status?"

"Operational, barely." Rosenburg blinked his eyes and his flabby lips clicked as he brushed his tongue over their surfaces. "He's lost one of his forward thrusters and power to his G-diffuse is down eighty percent."

"Do we have an up-link to the cockpit?"

"No, sir, not yet."

"I need a status report on his condition." They approached one set of terminals where several tenants busily managed their efforts, monitors ranging from radar to station diagnostics lighting the glass screens.

"Vitals appear to be at a questionable state, general," said the tenant manning the terminal at the center as he rapidly typed upon the keypad. "Pulse is below average and there's some convulsions in his musculature."

"Could he be wounded?"

"I'm not sure, sir. We won't know until we get an up-link."

"Any sort of communication?"

"Nothing yet, sir." Another tenant from a terminal nearby held a pair of headphones tightly over his pointy ears. "Some static, but it's mostly white noise."

"Get connected ASAP. What's his distance?"

"One hundred kilometers at mach ten and closing, sir."

Pepper moved to the front of the bridge with Rosenburg at his side. "Open the blast doors."

Upon several taps of a nearby terminal, a loud clang rung through the air and echoed into every set of ears. The walls surrounding the room had begun to slide to the right, each panel overlapping the other soon giving way for the sparkling void to breach into view. A light towards the bridge's right flank shined through. Solar, Lylat's home star, it's powerful glare brushing past the atmosphere from behind their home planet.

Corneria… Once the thriving agricultural jewel of the Lylat System, now the system's capital metropolitan planet. Despite the erections of skyscrapers and the birth of booming mega-cities, the world had somehow maintained its terrestrial beauty, free of the suffocating grip of pollution

"Do we have a visual?" Pepper continued to scan the void to the right side of the planet for anything artificial. A far distance away, the other defense stations of the Cornerian blockade came through in their crude, polygonal shapes, each forming the "Steel Collar" around Corneria's atmosphere.

"Scanners aren't picking up anything, sir."

_"__Star Fox, Star Fox,"_ the communications officer continued to repeat into the mike nearby. _"This is Spike Station Victor Six. Please advise us of your position. Over."_

A dark silence had arisen over the bridge, all quiet with the exception of the melody of computers and the repetition of the com officer's message.

"Perhaps his G-diffuse failed, sir," said Rosenburg from Pepper's side.

"No." Pepper shook his head, his lazy hound stare still focused completely on the void. "He's too smart for that. He'd of found a way past it."

"General?" One of the tenants manning the terminals had his dark eyes ultra-focused on the computer screen. "I'm picking up a ping from Sector One-seven." The beeps of the radar continued to bounce with a growing tempo. "Diagnostics check out positive. It's an Arwing."

"Distance?"

"Fifteen kilometers at mach five, sir. We should have a visual any moment."

"Commander Rosenburg?"

"On it, general. Lieutenant Highland, open up a level five radiation scan. If he's leaking a trail we should be able to see him."

Pepper watched as the glass depicting a fresco-similar visual of Lylat space was replaced by an electrical shield of orange. For a moment, not a piece of the cover shined brighter, until there was a small dot of a yellow shade that begun to come through towards the space directly before his eyes.

"Magnifying," said the lieutenant as the dot begun to grow a larger radius, soon becoming a glowing sphere with a white core. In no time the sphere had begun to form into a hazy shape, wing like limbs sprouting from the core which had grown significantly larger in size.

"Lift the scan," Pepper ordered.

"Lieutenant, return to free visual."

The electronic orange blanket faded away and the blackness of space speckled with stars revealed itself along with what appeared to be a lonely meteorite moving steadily towards the station.

"Contact confirmed, sir. He's requesting to dock."

"Commander, you have the bridge. Let the crew know I'm on my way to below deck."

"Yes, general. Sergeant Hallaway, open Docking Bay Thirteen. Alert the crew we have an incoming emergency crash landing. Prepare the rescue teams and notify medical."

As the elevator doors parted and allowed leeway, Pepper marched through in a hurried pace, two guardsmen moving along in his wake as escorts.

Up ahead, the docking bay presented itself in its squared foundations painted in grey with red stripes marking carrier lifts, two rows of a dozen Cornerian interceptors lying inert with their V shaped wings folded up towards the hull in rest. Rescue crews had already arrived to the scene preparing to receive the damaged craft. The massive doors of the bay had just begun to open up to the seemingly empty space outside, an invisible atmospheric force field housing the air and gravity of the station inside. Dockhands moved about like panicked roaches yelling orders and acknowledgments back and forth. Their tails, from long-haired to short-haired, were hovering perpendicular to their backsides.

"General Pepper." The dockmaster, a well built Great Dane with long ears drooping past his protective headphones, approached from the front. "Are you sure you want to be down here, sir? This may get a bit over-hairy."

"I'll be fine, just make sure he lands safely. I want to know just what the hell this is all about."

The dock doors had just passed the halfway point of opening and most of the space outside was now visible. In several long seconds of waiting, something immediately came to Pepper's eye like a flash of light at the center of a dark room. The meteorite-like spectacle was closer than ever and he could pick out the wings, half burnt away, spew sparks from damage sustained across the massacred hull. The speed was already too fast to be of a proper landing. Pepper feared the worst.

In seconds, the fiery craft had shot through the open gates and into the hangar, forcing its nose to dip down and bring its underbelly hard onto the dock's surface. A loud screeching of metal upon metal pierced the entire bay and the sparks emitting from the craft had tripled in grandeur. Dockhands and rescue workers closest to the action rushed back with warning yells, several just barely avoiding contact with the desecrated spacecraft.

What felt to be the longest crash he had ever experienced in his colorful career turned out to last no longer than mere seconds. When the craft finally slid to a halt and the screech came to a close, he immediately began his approach. A short moment later, he arrived to where the rescue teams had already forced open the cockpit and begun to help the pilot out. The limpness of the person's body supported that most likely of consensuses—a long, long flight back into the Cornerian sphere of control, bleeding.

But what struck Pepper as somewhat odd was why not Fortuna, or Katina, or even one of the outposts in Meteo? Why risk the long flight back to Corneria with a severally crippled ship rather than playing it safe with a closer port?

"Be careful, he's bleeding," said one of the rescue workers while supporting the pilot off the ledge of his fighter's dissolved wing. "Watch his hind leg, it looks broken."

Pepper immediately quickened to a jog while the dockmaster and his two escorts kept pace. When he arrived, the workers and dockhands had finished helping the pilot onto the ground and away from the wreckage.

"Thank whatever the gods," said Pepper with relief, seeing that his old friend was alright. "Peppy, you survived."

While being supported by the arms by two dockhands, the old hare's boney face cringed in a sudden upshot of pain, and he spared a quick moment to spit a sliver of blood past his large front tooth and onto the floor.

"More or less, general," he answered with an exhausted sigh. His tone was calm, as it had always been in Pepper's ears, not sounding much strained through the untold physical abuse he had withstood in undertaking his strenuous return.

Pepper patted him on the shoulder, watching his force while imagining the frailty of the hare's beaten bones. "How far off is James?"

Peppy didn't respond immediately, and instead of words he continued a drowned stare towards the floor, all the while the rescue workers hoisted his body onto a floating medical stretcher.

"Peppy?" Pepper looked on with eyes bleeding confusion instead of tears to what dark truth he already began to suspect. "Where is James? And Pigma? What happened to them?"

The hare lightly closed his eyes and a painful gurgle escaped his lips, along with another spurt of blood that stained his grey whiskers and trailed down along his furry white neck.

"Sir, he's already lost a lot of blood," a corpsman spoke from the side of the stretcher. "We need to get him up to medical or—"

"Right, go." Pepper stepped to the side and allowed them leeway, following perpendicular to Peppy's right flank, watching the old creature's wounds finally begin to take toll on his dwindling senses, now that his adrenaline had finally passed. But apart from the blood and fatigue, Pepper could see right past his eyelids and into his conscious, the truth of recent history now so obvious than ever.

"Find Fox," the hare spoke weakly as they departed the hangar. "Don't tell anybody else… I want him to hear it from me."


	3. Chapter 2

**2 -**

The hour on Corneria's western hemisphere was just past solar noon, seven hours past sunrise in the capital city of Calidame.

The air traffic was well abundant under the bright blue atmosphere. Skyways guided endless lines of hovercabs in and around the bleached white labyrinth of skyscrapers, the lower city below seemingly nonexistent to the world up and around the families of towers. Close to the financial district was one particular tower which was shorter in comparison to its counterparts, but shined bright like a church steeple glowing in the sun's radiance, whereas the gigantic letters branded upon its stone walls, **CALIDAME CENTRAL ACADEMY**, sparkled like gold plates.

Past the crystal doorway into the academy, the long, spotless white hallways of the school were loose with traffic and the silent elevators veining across the tower's scale held only small duos and trios, most prominently professors and administrative white-collars. Echoes from several dozens of classrooms made up most of the school-wide ambience. Several paces down towards the center of the two hundred and twelfth floor, there was mostly silence, students trapped within the generic square rooms, locked within their studies, listening in to the boring lectures ranging from trigonometry to anthromorphic anatomy, classical hound literature to ancient Cornerian history. It wasn't unusual that all the professors consisted of pure bred hounds, the pristine breeds of all Cornerians.

Calidame Central in itself was one of the more prestigious of academies located in the capital. Students ranging from toddlers to teenagers made up the majority of the academic populace, each reflecting the highest individual potential from exceptional IQ to athletic excellence. It was as common as it was obvious that most of the present students came from wealthy pure bred families (mixed breeds tended to provide the necessary occupants of the lower city ghettos). CCA was Corneria's center of cultural superiority. Only the finest and most well connected of the Cornerian Confederation Pact were given admittance, and later, upon graduation, given internships into future careers in a range of major fields: business, politics, military, and science and medicine.

Past the closed twin doors of one particular room, in no way special compared to the others, there was a class already in session. The professor, a hound in his mid-forties with saggy cheeks and a pair of sunken eyes hiding behind small circular spectacles that rested easily upon his whiskery snout, spoke on while wiping his finger along the surface of the holographic board. The class sized in over three dozen young members of an assortment of dog breeds, ranging from a wooly Scottish terrier to a stocky Doberman. They all appeared to be just entering into young adulthood: elements of the academy's senior class set to graduate this coming month. The very lifelessness in their eyes spoke of sheer boredom lined across five columns a half a dozen strong each. For the breeds whose ears remained naturally pointed upwards in physical dominance, they now lied limp upon their scalps giving the impression that graduation was just too far away for each of their tastes.

"And it was after the… _failure_ of the second colonization of Aquas where the Quarters Conglomerate was formed to… _reduce_ the cost of tariffs on the planet's mud bass trade." The professor continued to wipe his claw over the touch screen projected over the front wall, a chart depicting a series of historical events and currency records formed into the shape of a pyramid. "That is why, to this day… _one_ mud bass tariff is worth just as much as… _one_ month's salary for the average trade marketer."

Among the silent, dead-like upper-tier scholars, there was one who stood out the most peculiar amongst the all-canine crowd. He sat slumped in his desk twirling a pen around his knuckles in a careless fashion. His tightly fitted school uniform, an emotionless faded blue tunic with a red sash tied around the waistline, was unzipped several inches at the collar while the sleeves were rolled up above his elbows putting off a feeble, yet ample enough expression of schoolyard rebellion. The white fur at his chest ran up along his neck and stopped under his chin, where the white had been divided by a newer, grander shade of reddish orange. His ears, limp at the top of the scalp, like those of his classmates', were triangular with the tips dipped in black. Despite possessing naturally cunning eyes, there was evidence of a lack of sleep and a sense of boredom beyond all comparison, but was smart enough to hold back a yawn, especially being purposefully seated along the front row in close proximity to the professor.

For Fox, everyday at school was a bundle of irony. A "fox among hounds," he'd think of it as. There wasn't anything normal about it. His presence to everybody in the school—including himself—was the epitome of an anomaly. At least, that's how it was in the beginning years. Sure, he eventually grew past the reality of being naturally different, and as time went by, so did the jokes, and eventually, his entire distinction altogether. Now he was just another jock on the block in everybody's eyes…

… well, _most_ if not everybody's.

A sudden jolt of pain erupted from his behind like a bee sting when a boot had stepped down onto his fluffy tail by accident.

_"__Bill!"_ he whispered behind on impulse.

The student seated just behind him, a young hound who dressed his uniform in the same go-free attitude, quickly lifted his foot. "Easy, dude," he came back with a sloppy apology. "Don't be hatin."

"I am hatin. You stepped on my tail, you ass."

"Said I was sorry."

"No, you didn't."

"Ah, quit being such a pussycat."

"You know my species is more related to them than we're related to you."

Bill briefly coughed up a quiet chuckle. "Whatever you say, whiskers."

"But then you may ask yourself… _this."_ The professor's voice returned, louder with more hubris than before. "How… _could_ we colonize an… _uncolonizable_ planet such as Aquas in order to import mud bass at a lower cost and… _increase_ our overall trade revenue? To begin with, you need to establish a stable… _partnership_ with a… _amphibious_ enterprise in order to increase your chances at making a solid profit through… _joint _venture."

Despite he would never put off a studious vibe in class, Fox was in no way what you'd consider a space cadet. He'd listen (it came with his good hearing), even when it seemed he didn't care for any of it. He'd listen just so he could keep a promise he made once before.

In truth, though, he cared little for these pointless lectures in Business-Ed. It was all his father's doing, putting him through these boring classes, thinking someday he could make himself into some successful space trader with money pouring into his pockets like waterfalls of gold showering from the ether above. The promise was that he'd listen to what the professors had to say and not just blow it all away like useless jibber-jabber. Fox kept his promises, just like his father kept his.

Dad was a businessman himself, but his particular line of work was all the more adventurous compared to this crap. Down below where he stared into the background of his desk's computer screen, he stood beside him as a six year old pup, posing for the picture on top his old man's plane.

Fox cringed at the embarrassing sight of himself smiling idiotically and giving off a stupid peace sign with two stubby little fingers, all the while his father stood like a heroic icon, a tan flight vest wrapped over his forest green jumpsuit and a pair of black aviators resting above a clever smile. Fox himself was seated above upon his father's shoulder while they both stood upon the broad wing of his fighter. Father and son – the master and the apprentice, as it were.

And then Daddy goes and sends gullible little Fox off to boarding school a year after the picture was taken. Was this his idea of bringing him up? Sending him to fend for himself in a damned classroom all the while he got to go out and kick ass in adventure after adventure? He barely even got to see the old man during his downtime, and whenever he did, little was ever said. It was all because, on the whole, Fox could never manage to speak to him. It wasn't as if he never wanted to, it was just since he could never manage to get the words over his tongue and out past his lips. The man was a regular messiah in his life, had been since his mother died ten seconds after his first infant breath. How could _he,_ Fox, some motherless pup who'd never be able to equal up to Daddy's glory, spare the guts to speak with a legend like James McCloud?

The only thing he could do—the only thing he had ever done—was continue to silently worship the man like the god he was.

_"__Mr. McCloud."_ The professor's risen voice had caused Fox's eyes to dart up from a lonely stare."Would you like to… _share_ your current level of wisdom concerning trade marketing?"

"I'd prefer not to, Professor Harksak." His eyes slowly began to drift up towards the ceiling, as if an alluring thought had suddenly occurred to him, causing a devious grin to curve around his lips. "However, I do find the idea of _mud bass_ most invigorating. I mean, a sprinkle of lemon juice, some sautéed mushrooms on top, a hookup with a nice piece of tail, and you got yourself a date with paradise, brother."

"I'd ask for seconds," murmured Bill from behind.

The classroom echoed in laughter. Fox wiped his hand between his ears and over his clean cut military-styled scalp, giving a satisfied smirk. Ten years ago he'd always be sitting quietly and to himself in the corner during each session in class, hoping to avoid spitballs and dirty notes by pretending his existence was just a mirage. Ten years ago, classmates treated him like a joke, a mistake that belonged down in the lower city slums, down the stomach of some alien monstrosity.

Today, everybody knew him as a regular hotshot, a notorious figure of popularity within the Calidame alpha pack. The fox who could out best even a wolf with a smart wink of an eye.

_The name of the game was fame in Calidame,_ and Fox McCloud was the star quarterback.

"Fascinating," the professor dimly responded as the laughter subsided. "Truly… _inspiring."_

Fox watched closely as the old hound stepped over to the desk at the front left corner of the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a small container of dissolvable aspirin. Flipping off the top and claiming his glass of water, he suddenly peeked up above his spectacles, taking notice of Fox's unusual amount of focus.

Instantly, Fox grew a fake smile, dissolving any sense of suspicion through a classic nod of respect

"Truly…" The professor pitifully shook his head as he dumped two tablets into the water. A fizzy bubble stream erupted within the glass. Not sparing another second, he took a gulp.

Fox's smile had suddenly transformed into a grin as he glanced to the rear, Bill behind trying to contain a laugh dancing around his lungs.

"Now," the professor began again upon setting his glass upon his desk. "Would anybody like to tell me the…"

There was a pause in the professor's voice, but not one of his usual drags. Instead, his flabby neck joggled as he swallowed past an unusually dry tongue.

_"__Solar Renaissance. _Yes, the Solar Renaissance. How did this particular… _event_…"

The professor stopped again, this time expressing a rapid increase of fatigue with a deep yawn that exposed his teeth beneath his pudgy cheeks.

"How… _did_ this event effect—"

"Professor? Perhaps you should sit down."

"Yes…" the hound's voice slurred. "Of course, Miss Valeway. In the mean time, begin reading chapters seven through… _nine…"_

The professor's voice continued to spew instructions too boggled to be understood. His wobbly legs barely made progress but soon took his body over towards his desk where he plopped down onto the black leather chair, exhaling a deep breath of relief.

"Chapters… _seven…" _He spared a moment to take another sip of his glass. "Through… _nay…"_

Fox watched on in a dark sense of pleasure as the professor's consciousness soon dwindled into nothing, a snore replacing his mumbles and spewing a light spray of moisture past his drooping lips.

"Bout time," one student's voice spoke up from one of the rows.

"What'd you give him this time, Bill?"

"The usual. Sleeping pills mixed with some knockout powder."

"He isn't dead, is he?"

"Dreaming of grass fields and beautiful farm girls, more likely."

"Right." Fox clapped his hands together and sprung up from his desk. "So who's it gonna be this round?"

"I brought the cards," a short hairy Scotty spoke from the corner while reaching into his shoulder bag.

"You suckers bring more than five slips this time?" Fox had patted Bill on the shoulder as the hound rose to follow him towards the growing cluster at the center of the room. "I'm raising the stakes on this one."

"I'm in, till Fox starts cheating."

The Scotty handed the cards to Fox who began shuffling them within his hands like a veteran casino dealer. A grin continued to embellish his furry cheeks.

"It's time, boys and girls, to actually _make_ some money."

"The professor would be proud," added Bill as the old hound to the front of the room continued to snore peacefully in his chair, a long dangly tongue hanging limp past his dark gums.

* * *

A high pitched horn buzzed through the floor marking the end of the period for the senior class. In almost an instant, the closed doors of every room opened to reveal the dozens of classes conjoin into a flood. Chatter arose like wildfire the moment the buzzer sung its obnoxious tune.

"I'm winning that back tomorrow, Fox," said one passing terrier while passing out their classroom door. "You can count that excuse of a tail on it."

"Sorry guys," said Fox while being flanked by several of his classmates scoping in on the bundle of paper slips he packed casually into his uniform pocket. "Winning must be a disease. Can't seem to cure it."

Bill had purposefully bumped his elbow into his shoulder, causing his balance to waggle.

"You know what they say about gambling," said the hound as they moved farther down into the hallway thick with pure breeds in matching uniforms. "Cheaters never prosper."

"They also say cheating's just another form of gambling," said Fox and revealed his winnings just long enough to strum his thumb claw down the corner of the pile causing the bills to clatter together in rhythm.

"Gambling with your life." Bill had reached out with lightning fast speed and snatched the money stack from his unprepared fingers. "Jump into the fray without thinking… bound to get bitten in the ass one day or another."

Fox immediately retaliated with a quick swipe of his own, so quick it took a moment for Bill to realize his fingers were pinched around nothing but air.

"Doing things my own way seems to work out well." With two fingers, Fox pinched several bills from the stack and offered them to Bill while pocketing the rest. "But I guess a wingman never hurts. Good work forging those aces."

The hound's naturally droopy face twisted into the biggest grin he could possibly manage, accepting his pay. "True dat, Daddy's boy."

At the eastern end of the hallway were a series of tubular elevators large enough to house groups of five. Their very design coupled with the glass see-through shafts resembled blood vessels traveling up and down the veins of a titan.

"You planning to go out tonight?" Fox started small talk with Bill as they waited in a short line to enter the elevators.

"Nah, ever since I started this accelerated graduate program my schedule's been on the fritz." He stretched his arms outwards, groaning dramatically. "Trying to pull off two semesters of work in one is like cutting down a tree with a butter knife. I gotta report back home right after graduation."

"Can't believe Katina's still conscripting." Fox watched as the group before them disappeared within the elevator towards the lower levels. "You'd think forty years after the sixth invasion they'd cool off enough to lift the draft."

_"__Seventh,"_ Bill corrected. "Trust me, dude. As many times as Venom's tried to bust down our door, their paranoia of there being an _eighth_ is reason enough to keep doing what they're doing."

An empty elevator capsule arose and opened up. Fox, Bill, and two others moved forward to claim it. When they arrived inside, Fox turned around to face the hallway behind their wake and suddenly felt his eyes nearly leap out from their sockets.

_"__Crap," _he murmured with tight lips.

Bill glanced up from the elevator console to where Fox was suddenly turned into a stuffed statue. "Who is it? Harksak"

"It's Rhyleen. Quick, close the door."

Fifty feet or so into the hallway, a melody of girlish giggles arose above all other voices. A group of a dozen pure breeds walked out of a classroom in a crescent formation around one particular female, a stunning Rough Collie who lit up the expressionless hallways like a fluffy star, giving passion to the passionless. Her long, beautiful fur, assorted in white, fawn, and chocolate brown shades, fluffed out at her chest and neatly lied upon her scalp. Her dark eyes shined like jewels resting above a narrow snout with a grand smile revealing the sheer whiteness of her perfect teeth.

The doors had just begun to shut him behind a plate of glass when the Collie met eyes with him through the spacing.

_"__Hey, Fox!"_ her voice came through like a siren's call.

Fox's hand hanging at his side had instantly shot out and caused the elevator doors to reopen. To the side, Bill rolled his head, chuckling up an earthquake.

In no time, another person had arrived to the elevator and took a stand inside. It was the Collie, her hand strumming past her fawn and white scalp where fur fell across her white shoulders, all the while her lips smiled to where Fox stood petrified.

"Hey, fruit cup," she spoke through a sweet tenor as the doors finished closing and the city past the glass behind had begun to gradually rise higher as the elevator descended. "How's your day been going?"

"Fine," he managed to speak past a smile that was shading away his internal fear. "Kind of cool, kind of… I guess." To his rear, he could barely pick out the tempo of Bill's chortling.

The Collie, Rhyleen, smiled adoringly while tilting her head towards her shoulder. "Heard you won big in Harksak's class today. Thinking of buying me dinner tonight?"

For a split moment, Fox could have sworn he felt his pulse turn flat-line and his heart fall dead to the bottom of his stomach. "W-wait, again?" His eyes lit up in a mix of fear and big expectations. "But last time you said—"

She instantly burst out laughing as her smile became so wide across her snout that it nearly reached her eyes. "No, I'm only kidding," she said. "I mean, not tonight. I already promised Dobbs I'd let him take me out."

"Ah." Fox felt his lips frown when those hopeful expectations dwindled into nothing. "Good for Dobbs."

To the right, standing between the two other passengers, Bill raised his hand parallel to the ground below and mimicked a plane crashing, his fist suddenly exploding into five extended stubby fingers as he hissed along the sound effects. The two students at his flanks chuckled along at the ultimate display of male misfortune.

"I mean, after last time, not saying that offer doesn't sound good on the table," explained Rhyleen, now appearing more unsure in herself than Fox was in himself. "I just… well, I just don't wanna break my promise, that's all."

"Yeah," Fox felt some of the tension in his chest begin to loosen enough for him to breathe normally through his nostrils. "I can relate to that."

A ping echoing from the top of the capsule brought about the opening of the glass doors. Another hallway extended itself for nearly a hundred yards with dozens of different rooms lined up along the vanilla white walls. Rhyleen had turned and began to move out the door to where her next class awaited her, but halfway out, she immediately turned back.

"Fox?" she asked upon hesitating. "I was actually wondering if… you know, if you weren't going with anyone to…"

"Prom?" Fox felt his eyes blink. "You're asking me to go with you? What about Dobbs?"

"It's not like we're really dating. I just don't wanna hurt his feelings. Big and sensitive, you know how he is." Her lips lifted from her timid frown into a propitious smile. "And, truthfully, I'd prefer to go with… you."

Her words came through like an invitation to heaven in Fox's ears, and he felt every bit of tension in his body melt down into nothing. "Yeah," he answered in something of a sigh. "It'd be an honor."

Rhyleen returned his acceptance with a wider smile, her sparkling perfect teeth shining white in the sunlight breaching past the elevator glass. In a flawless twist of her hips, she turned and began walking away just as the elevator doors finished closing, Fox watching on with unblinking eyes at the sight of her fluffy tail swaying side to side, feeling his own vibrate more than a simple waggle.

_"__It'd be an honor?"_ Bill immediately returned after a quick chortle. "What are you? A _pup scout?"_

Fox didn't directly give a reply. His face was still putting off a satisfied grin while he smoothly turned away from the doors and leaned his back against the glass frame of the capsule.

_"__Bah,_ look at him, guys." Bill nudged his elbows into the two other passengers who laughed along. "That's the face of success that we should all aspire to achieve. Fox McCloud…_ the Denomination of Domination… _and only when a fluffy white tail comes bobbing by, that number drops to zero."

"Not today, Billy-boy," said Fox as he extended his arms forward with interlocked fingers, cracking the knuckles. "Today, I'm a millionaire."

"So this must be your idea of an honest day's work then, eh, bro?"

Fox grinned. "Day's not over yet."

* * *

All seemed quiet for a moment under the hazy fluorescence. There was a ringing in his ears that Fox couldn't quite manage to get past. His consciousness was weary and constantly boggling about his mind like popcorn in a microwave.

The ringing had just begun to subside and he could hear cheering and antagonizing yells, making him believe he had been dropped flat at the center of a boxing match. The hazy light in front of his eyes had been blocked away with an incoming shadow, a limb extending from the hull and what appeared to be a titanic paw shooting forward in slow motion.

Reality instantly returned once a pair of knuckles slammed into his cheek, the force behind the punch so great it caused him to topple backwards upon his tail.

"Get up, you scumbag!" a large Doberman to his front scorned him as he rubbed his chaffing knuckles.

To his rear, several paws grabbed onto his tunic and pulled him upright, one pair belonging to Bill who stood behind on the sidelines with the others. The class had formed a circular arena around the two combatants, cheering and urging the fight further.

"Explain to me how I got myself into this?" Fox spoke back to Bill while still dazed from the previous blow, fresh blood leaking down the corner of his mouth.

Bill brushed some dust from his shoulder and thoughtfully readjusted his wrinkled collar. "For being, well… _you,"_ he answered, bleakly. "Can't think of a better explanation than that, bro."

"You filthy, scheming little conrat!" Dobbs, the Doberman who threw the punch, stood with his own sleeves rolled high, prepared for more violence.

"That works, too," murmured Bill.

"You cheat craps with me?" Dobbs appeared to be fuming. _"Me? _You think I'm stupid? Hope you've robbed enough cash to afford some braces, you orange-coated piece of crap!"

Fox regained a steady stance, patting away the helping hands and moving to the side like a predator stalking his prey. He spat a sliver of blood onto the floor while rubbing at the stain beside his snout. "Nah, I think I'll use it to buy your girl dinner instead."

There were "O"s and laughs to be heard all around.

"My money's on Dobbs," said one spectator from within the crowd.

"I'll take that bet."

"Knock him down, Fox!"

Dobbs came first with a heavy lunge forward, his fist cocked back and a groan of fury leaking past his bared fangs. He threw his arm forward in a wide arch, but Fox managed to duck below it, the Doberman's fist scraping the tips of his ears. Sensing danger from below, he dodged again in time to miss a heavy uppercut from Dobb's opposite hand, spinning around the dog's muscular form and gaining better ground from deeper within the circle. He raised his hands in a fighting stance, bending his knees while shifting his weight upon his toes. Dobbs came around like an angry barbarian swinging punch after punch, but Fox proved too quick. He ducked around each attack and soon batted away one powerful right and immediately returned with twin jabs straight into the Doberman's snout then came through with a powerful right of his own. The force knocked the Doberman loose on his feet and Fox took the opportunity by moving deeper into the attack. He threw more left jabs and several rights, beating in the developing bruises decorating Dobb's black face, now moist with sweat and blood.

None of his strikes held nearly the same muscle and feral ferocity behind Dobbs's swings, but the repetition and velocity of each nippy punch was the equivalent of a hundred hyperactive bees stinging an angry bear. _ Kill a giant with bug bites, _a friend of Dad's had once told him.

But after throwing a slower jab, Dobb's gigantic fist had risen up and taken his wrist with an iron grip. The Doberman threw another heavy hit into his jaw, close to being a direct hit but rather grazed the fur on his cheek. Acting on sheer instinct, Fox slid around to his rear and leapt onto his back with amazing speed, bringing his left arm still in Dobb's grasp against the warrior breed's neck. Grabbing his own wrist above Dobb's thick knuckles, he pulled back hard and succeeded in getting him into a vertical head lock.

"That's the way, Fox!" several cheered towards the side.

"Better get that money ready, Bowers."

Fox tightened his hold around his neck while Dobbs grinded his fangs and struggled to break free. But before all hope was lost for the brute, he dropped his left arm and slammed his elbow into Fox's side, causing him to gasp aloud in pain, followed by several more prolonged "O"s from the audience. Another two slams and Fox gave up his hold and dropped back down to his feet, Dobbs making a quick retaliation with another raging fist backwards. Fox easily avoided the fatal blow and circled swiftly around him again like a cat in play, ignoring the growing welt on his side.

"C'mon, is that all you got?" Fox mocked while maintaining a grin full of hubris. _"Damn,_ and I haven't even started cheating yet."

Dobbs's eyes were alit with fury as he tried desperately to hold back his heavy panting. "I'll bite off your tail and strangle you with it, you rat!"

"This tail? The one your girl can't stop staring at?"

Dobbs immediately charged forward again in blind rage, an unstoppable juggernaut. Fox stood his ground in a ready position, his sharp eye examining the incoming attack from the ground up. Right before Dobbs could tackle into him in force he quickly ducked around to the side and came immediately back with a lightning fist directly into the dog's side, just below his ribs and above his hip bone.

Dobbs halted his charge with a yelp and stood with his torso hunched to the side in pain. He attempted to rush back but found the pain erupting in his abdominal too great to even move.

"And that's game, folks!" Bill spoke aloud like a referee as the majority of the crowd began to flock around the victor, several individuals loyal to Dobbs moving over to render air to the beaten alpha dog.

"Where did _that_ come from?" said Bill from Fox's side as he was congratulated with cheers and pats on the shoulders.

"Just another gamble," he answered past a smug grin while being shook with the keyed up hands of his fans. "It must be my lucky day."

"Just wait, dude. Eventually you're gonna roll snake-eyes and it won't be Dobby who bites off your tail."

_"__Hold up, guys, quiet!"_ the Scotty standing closest to the classroom door suddenly hissed passed the chatter. _"Listen."_

The room had turned as silent as a graveyard at night. Everybody, including Dobbs who continued to stand awkwardly, had frozen in place with ears poking up towards the ceilings taking in sound.

_"__Somebody's coming."_

Without objection, the class immediately dispersed, pulling desks back in their original positions and claiming their seats. In seconds, after everybody had taken on a fake study session appearance—Dobbs trying his best to keep his back straight without causing another spout of pain—the door to the room had clicked and separated revealing a female hound administrator standing at the entrance with what appeared to be a guard hound wearing a standard Cornerian army uniform.

The woman peeked inside and took in the seemingly normal manifestation of hard-working students just before glancing over to discover the strange spectacle of Professor Phillis snoring lazily from his desk, locked in a deep sleep.

"He isn't dead, is he?" the soldier murmured to her side.

"No, I don't…" The administrator loudly cleared her throat. "Professor?"

She was answered with silence.

_"__Professor Phillis?"_

Rather than silence, the professor gave a long exhausted groan and showed signs of awaking.

_"__Hrm…" _A grunt came through his lips before his head once again fell limp backwards and opened his jaw to bellow the most vivid snore yet.

The administrator blinked her eyes in total cluelessness before continuing past the dormant professor and looking back to the silent class.

"Fox McCloud?" she said as her face returned back to its snooty, upper-class bred nature.

Every set of eyes within the room instantly turned onto where he sat like a perfect role model, with the exception to the bloody lip.

_"__What'd you do this time?"_ Bill's voice came through in a whisper to his ear.

Wiping a small stray sliver of blood from his chin, Fox took a stand to reveal himself to the administrator.

The woman instantly gave a droopy smile. "Would you be so kindly to step out of class for a moment?" she asked in a way nobody could tell whether or not she was being honest or deceiving.

Fox felt his face grow limp at the grueling reality of being caught despite he had well already grown accustomed to the gross sensation years ago. Glancing for a moment to the slumbering professor, he began to step around his desk and move for the door. His departure was accompanied by whispers of suspicion back and forth between desk rows, mostly concerning the soldier who accompanied the administrator, along with the deeply satisfied chortle of Dobbs who still sat with his back awkwardly curved to the side.

_Sucker…_

"Continue on with your assignment," the woman spoke back to the class, though immediately appeared unsure of her words upon noticing several casino grade playing cards peeking past the cover of one student's bag, along with a wet spot on the floor between the second and third columns that strangely resembled blood.


	4. Chapter 3

**3 -**

They barely gave a reason to him outside the classroom of why he was needed elsewhere on the basis of Cornerian military matters. Obviously, it had something to do with his father, but neither the administrator nor the soldier gave any sort of clarification. The soldier personally claimed he wasn't told anything else—not a single detail—apart from the order to retrieve him from school and usher him up to the Steel Collar.

His departure from Corneria made Fox feel like something of a celebrity being escorted to a special dinner party up in space. But the constant silence had begun to grow a natural level of skeptic vibe from deep within his stomach. If the army needed him for something, then his father must have been in some way involved.

_Daddy got hurt on his last job?_

Maybe. If such was the case, than he wouldn't be totally surprised. Occupational hazards for a soldier of fortune ranged from countless sources: a deadly run-in with a band of pirates which turned messy, or perhaps just a hazardous ship malfunction that ended with a broken leg and a couple second degree burns. But Star Fox wasn't your everyday bundle of go-getter mercenaries. If there was truly anything "legendary" still left in Lylat, SF was it. They were the best of best in the business, and James McCloud alone could singlehandedly take down an entire pirate gang in the slightest trigger pressure and come through without a speck of dust along his wings.

James had plenty of scars, each with their own story. But the father of Fox McCloud was never much of a social person. He'd hide the marks of his past beneath his sleeves and barricade any mental wounds behind a pair of shades. When it came to being in the constant presence of death, he would most commonly be playing the role of the reaper, sparing not any concern of his own physical condition in favor of fulfilling the contract at hand. Dad was a businessman up front – a mortal being afterwards.

Space was his natural habitat while Fox had always shared the same wondrous fascination with the endless void: strange alien worlds and secrets that eluded the mortal eye were just a couple among the countless marvels to be found in the infinite frontier. He watched the celestial domain unfold through Corneria's thinning atmosphere, the light blue of the sky above the clouds soon darkening into a sheet of black, stars arising within the emptiness like specks of diamonds.

The military transporter was crude in shape and architecture, especially within the troop hold which consisted of a hundred flight chairs stretched along the cargo bay. Several naval men accompanied his flight up towards the Steel Collar, regular hounds who appeared to be on rotation deployments, along with the soldier who had snatched him from the academy. His presence drew some curious eyes from each of the naval men, and Fox could only assume they knew who he was, or at least suspected they did. A fox on a Cornerian military vessel could only point out to one conclusion, and his father was the key.

"First flight, kid?" one sailor casually spoke up from across the hold.

Fox looked back from his window and over to the side. "Nah," he answered with a chuckle, as if the question had been a joke. "I've been doing this my whole life."

"You're James McCloud's pup, aren't you?" another hound came around with another question.

"That's right."

"Well, no shit!" The first sailor adjusted himself unnervingly in his seat, as if he was in the presence of royalty. "He up at the Collar right now?"

"I can only guess so."

"James McCloud…" The sailor shook his head in disbelief, as if Fox's answer was an offer to meet the legend himself. "Think he'll be around long enough to give autographs?"

"Sailor," the hound escort behind him interjected, coldly.

"Give it a rest, Branson," added the petty office seated closest to the cockpit door. "Kid's business is his own."

The first sailor who attempted conversation sat back with the others, dismissing the subject. Fox wasn't a stranger to flattery, especially around naval men who heard the stories revolving around Star Fox, from small scale no-win scenarios the team somehow managed to survive through to the major scale Venom Conspiracy forty years ago that gained SF its legendary status. When it came down to it, Fox knew as much as the grunts knew. His father rarely recounted tales from his early days, and Fox gained his only insight into the man through the same rumors and tall-tales that everybody at one time or another had listened to. Some were true, others were only partially true. But on the whole, they were _all_ true… to a certain degree, of course.

Ten minutes into the flight, several grey figures had begun to arise from the darkness outside. These shapes were covered in lights like gigantic Christmas trees and there were more than one to be seen. This was the Steel Collar, the Cornerian orbital line of defense. Each station was a behemoth compared to the battleships that patrolled the surrounding spaces, twin gigantic arm-like limbs attached to each platform hugging a circle of space in between. The transport had begun to approach one station in particular. The grandeur of its presence was godlike in Fox's eyes, a floating fortress, and he could only imagine of how long it must've taken for the Cornerians to build such a thing.

A red light suddenly ignited up above the troop hold replacing the bluish luminescence and the pilot's voice came through the intercom claiming they were on final approach. The passengers immediately fastened their harnesses and Fox did the same. As the seconds ticked away, turbulence suddenly began to vibrate the transporter's foundations. They had just entered into the atmospheric ring between the gigantic arms of the station and were just moments away from reaching the dock.

_"__Gah, I hate this crap,"_ he heard one sailor speak in the background. _"I can barely hold my lunch in during final approach."_

_"__You're the one who chose navy over army, O'Neil."_

_"__Army does have its benefits,"_ the guardsman spoke from behind while gripping desperately onto his harness. _"Benefits of solid ground."_

Fox couldn't help but smile at the sensation erupting all around through the transporter. He'd never been much of a fan of solid ground. He needed freedom, something flying possessed in abundance.

The turbulence had begun to subside once the view past the window turned from space to metallic alloy.

_"__Standby,"_ the pilot spoke through the intercom. Soon following his voice, there was a deep clunk and everything became still. The sailors had released their harnesses and began to form up facing the rear of the troop hold.

Fox unsnapped his own harness and stood up just as the rear ramp of the transporter had begun to lower with the mechanical sound resembling a crane. Looking beyond, the station's hangar lowered into view while the wide echoes of separate intercoms outside entered into his ears with the usual _clangs_ and _clunks _of the average docking bay.

"Let's go, let's go! Move it, felines!"

The line of sailors began to jog out the ramp with their service sacks hoisted around their shoulders. Fox brought up the rear in a casual walk with the guardsman at the front. Stepping down the heavy ramp, his feet met concrete while his eyes adjusted to the wider landscape. Dockhands scurried about tending to their duties while several pilots prepared themselves beside their fighters for routine sorties.

"You need to report to General Pepper," the soldier guarding him spoke as they stood off the ramp. "That's all I know and all I can say, kid. Sorry I can't give any details."

Up ahead, a trio of security guards marched in on approach, their weapons resting in slings at their sides.

"Mr. McCloud," the one at the center addressed him by title. "If you would follow us, sir, we'll take you to General Pepper."

Leaving the care of the soldier behind, he moved to follow the security guards out of the hangar and into one of the service elevators, not bothering to ask them the same questions he tried to get answered from his previous escort.

_What is this?_ Fox argued in his thoughts. _Did I miss I was some part of some global plot to take over the world or something?_

The walk through the station proved to be long and tedious with constant stopping and going through security checkpoints, more elevators, more… _silence. _That thought alone annoyed him the most, the fact he was being kept in the dark like a pup before Christmas morning. But Fox wasn't anything of a simpleton. It was all just protocol on their parts, he knew so – _his_ part was to follow on like an apathetic robot who kept his questions to himself.

Moving on past the mazes of hallways with the three guards—one at each of his flanks and the other directly in front of him, giving him the impression he really was being lead to his own execution—eventually a familiar face arose into view apart from the strangers who regularly passed by.

The general stood ahead facing the wall to the right with his hands clasped behind his back at ease, fingers pinched around the brim of his formal military hat. His lazy expression appeared naturally fatigued from constant active duty with his wrinkly cheeks drooped low below his jaw. It took a moment for him to notice his arrival and he straightened his frown.

"Fox, welcome." He greeted him with a nod. "How are you, my boy?"

He returned his nod with one of his own. "Hello again, sir."

Pepper glanced up to the guards and wove them away. With easy salutes they took their leave, and Fox started to feel like a normal being again… to an extent.

"My apologies, son, I didn't mean to make this all seem so presumptuous." The old army hound continued to stand in his disciplined posture, his long rows of merits shining in most if not all the colors of the rainbows accompanied by four golden stars pinned to each of the epilates on top his shoulders. "But then again, I myself enjoyed the occasional day of hooky from the academy. Damned classrooms felt like cardboard boxes, I tell you."

Fox broke into a smirk. "Can't complain, sir."

Pepper cracked into a chuckle. "Good man."

Silence soon came over the two as they stood within the deserted hallway, the walls as clean and emotionless as those of the academy.

"I'm assuming this has something to do with my father?" Fox soon broke the pause.

The expression in the general's face seemed to stay the same though there was flicker in his eye which gave off a vague, unknown message. He adjusted his stance and took in a breath through his wet nostrils.

"Yes, it does." Pepper turned his head back towards the wall at his left, a long sheet of glass connected to a see-through doorway a pace behind where he stood.

The silence following his reply caused Fox to blink, unsure of the situation. Noticing the general's eyes focused on the glass to the right, he stepped forward to gain a view inside the adjacent room. The snow white of the interior proved that it was the station's medical clinic, several beds lined across the walls neighboring different machines used for treating patients. Inside there were several personnel dressed in further white, several nurses managing their work centers. Patient-wise, there was nobody present for what Fox could see, until he noticed several shadows shift from behind the curtains at the opposite end of the room.

"Will he be alright?" he asked, unenthusiastically.

Pepper to his side took another unmoving breath. _"He_ will."

Fox turned to look Pepper in the eye, the brief answer alone completely wiping out every hypothesis he originally put together during his journey up from planet side.

"You need to speak with him," said Pepper, his voice now distinguishably graver in tone.

The doors into the clinic slid open causing the nurses to stop and acknowledge the newcomer. Fox walked into view slowly past the doorway. His eyes squinted while trying to adjust to the white gleam enveloping the walls.

"Excuse me?" the clinic physician approached him with a stern march, a head wrap scooping back her ears, a mask wrapped around her snout and a pair of small ovular glasses resting before her eyes. "This is a sanitized room. We've just finished—"

"Doctor Trite," Pepper spoke from outside the doorway to make his presence clear.

The physician blinked while looking between Fox and the general, then glanced to the back room where the curtains hung around a lone hospital bed.

"My apologies," she quickly came through with embarrassed eyes. "He's in the surgery, towards the back. Go on through."

Looking away from the doctor, Fox took in the mysterious spectacle of the drapes hanging further into the room. Swallowing some saliva down his dry throat, he forced himself to take steps forward. Pepper remained isolated from behind the glass observation window, watching his advance with darkening eyes.

Stepping around the corner where the drapes separated the surgery from the remainder of the clinic, Fox looked over towards where a bed supported its patient surrounded by monitors depicting pulse, body heat, and nutrient levels. His soft eyes seemed to grow heavy as he looked to the face of the victim surrounded by layers of gauze that looped around his neck and up across his forehead and around his long, flaccid rabbit ears.

"Peppy?"

The hare's weary eyes flickered as life slowly began to return to his grey complexion. A respirator was fastened across his mouth that amplified each breath he took in.

_"__Fox,"_ he acknowledged in a muffled voice, his chest slowly rising up and down as the majority of his body was covered in bandages. A thick cast with blue metallic braces supported by a harness kept his left leg straight and elevated. IV tubes ran from his bandaged arms while a white apron covered his torso.

"How're you feeling?" Fox asked in good faith, trying to focus on the _now_ rather than whatever was bound to hit him later.

The hare's right paw weakly lifted up and his fingers, scalded with burns, pinched around the respirator and pulled it down past his chin. "Been better," he answered with his tone calm and old with age. "There's an itch under this damned brace that's keeping my hairs up, but I'll manage."

Fox spared a smile while his eyes took in the hare's beaten appearance with a hidden cringe.

"How's school been going?" Peppy began small talk, as if it mattered in this situation. Nevertheless, Fox hadn't seen the old fighter pilot in… _years, _come to think of it.

"The same as always. Long days, little rest."

_"__Hrm…"_ Peppy tried to readjust his spine for better comfort, rattling the harness that helped up his injured leg. "I know plenty of that feeling. Just like those days back in my service on Clover." He took in a deep breath through his puffy cheeks. "Then again, I never did finish school. They stuck a gun in my paws and shipped me out before I ever got the chance."

"Seems you managed well." Fox chuckled. "You always do."

"True." The hare chuckled back, his voice still frail and weak while his eyes continued to give off a perfect thousand-yard stare. "All thanks to your father."

There was a pause between them both as Peppy continued to gaze into a space of nothingness, his apathetic face glowing almost white in the surrounding light.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Fox brought up the question, this time with the intent of hearing an actual explanation rather than accepting silence as a legitimate answer.

Peppy continued his silent stare into space for another moment, perhaps recollecting the recent events and trying to manage past the chaotic ruminations. He eventually inhaled again and brought his chin higher from his collar.

"We got sold out," he finally answered, grimly.

Fox felt instantly taken aback. "By who? When?"

"Pigma. Two days ago. He led us into an ambush on Venom."

"Venom? What were you—"

"It was a classified operation," Peppy interjected, swiftly. "Nobody knew we were there. Nobody except Pepper. A recent hint suggested Andross was returning back from Zoness after a meeting with reptilian mercenaries. The report was bogus. Instead of a few escort ships, we ran straight into the entire Venomian fleet."

"Andross?" The name would regularly bring shivers to any Cornerian, but Fox liked to consider himself a citizen of the galaxy instead of a citizen to just one particular world, immune to local superstitions. "I thought he was dead. Dad said—"

"Dad lied," Peppy interjected, again. "Only because it was necessary. If all of Corneria knew Andross was alive, there'd be enough fear and civil unrest to put the entire planet up in flames. It was all just a cover up. We _thought_ he died forty years ago, but a few years back we intercepted evidence claiming he wasn't, that somehow he survived past the Conspiracy."

The truth left Fox unsettled. "He's been alive this whole time?"

"We weren't out overseeing a diplomatic exchange like your father told you before we left." He occasionally stopped to regain his breath. "The mission was assassination. Pepper doesn't want to give Venom any more reason to invade Corneria, so he hired us to carry out the hit so he could disclaim any responsibility." He shook his head, a small level of disgust growing at the core of his blackish eyes. "It was all one giant fluke. Intel was forged and we landed headfirst into a firestorm. Never seen so many ships shoot me at once."

"Are you sure it was Pigma who turned coats?"

"I'm sure." Peppy's tone had become tainted in disgust. "You know how I know? Because the fat bastard of a hog was never there when it all went down. He was the one carrying the coordinates to the strike zone and when we landed into the trap, he was nowhere to be seen. That bogus intel was bait, and Pigma reeled it in and left us to dry out under fire. He _betrayed_ us, Fox. I'm positive of it."

Fox had always been close to the members of Star Fox, both those of the deceased and the current. Peppy had been his father's best friend throughout his career. The two were like brothers, which made Peppy a regular member of the family and something of an uncle to Fox.

But when it came to the third current member, Pigma… he was never really sure of him. He'd always been a slob by choice, and every time he spoke with him made Fox believe he was in the presence of a bloodthirsty beast who enjoyed entertaining the belief he was above the golden rule of social decency. But despite his naturally grotesque character and soaring level of greed (that was average for a grey-coat soldier who killed for a living), he was still supposedly a loyal member of the team. There really wasn't any reason why he should backstab the others – the team made enough money to feed an entire starving planet.

"What happened next?" he moved on, intent of finding out more.

Peppy attempted to lift himself up from the inclined mattress but recoiled with painful coughs and gurgles. Fox moved over and took the glass of water upon one of the counters and offered it to him, Peppy accepting and taking a sip, coughing one last time to clear his swollen throat.

"We tried to fight our way out," he went on. "With Pigma gone we had no clue of the enemy strength, but I tell you, there must've been hundreds of ships. At first it was like they were trying to shoot a couple of fruit flies with machine guns, only until their fighters showed up like bees and lit up the whole damned spectrum. It was like running through a never-ending gauntlet, trying to shoot down as many as we could, but they just kept coming. Eventually I took fire on my wings and lost power to the armaments. All I could do was pull out.

"James, he…" Peppy stopped for a moment, recoiling again at something other than the pain from his wounds. "He told me to leave while he made a break for the surface. Guess he saw the only way to go for him was forward. That's always been his style. There was an opening in the enemy line and I knew he was going after Andross."

Fox's eyes had turned dry from not giving a blink since Peppy began. His lips were partially open allowing air to drift past his teeth and cool his tongue. Within his mind there was only a black shroud, no longer any theories and hopeful imaginings. Just darkness.

"His vitals turned dark just as I was making the jump." Peppy turned his frozen face up to view him, eye-to-eye. "I'm sorry, Fox."

* * *

James McCloud was dead.

The fact felt like a flash flood of icy water pouring down over his brain which was now as lifeless as a rock. He watched the stars through clear glass making up the wall of the room, an officer's quarters not so far away from the station clinic. While others viewing space at this particular moment would see it as endless, Fox couldn't help but feel as if it was too small. Even worse, it was beginning to shrink before his very eyes, every formation of Lylat, from the asteroid belt to Solar, passing through his gaze as if his eyes were traveling forward at the speed of light. And soon enough, there it was…

Venom. The ugliest, most savage of all terrestrial spheres the galaxy had to offer. It glowed in an evil yellow mixed with the black smudges of pollution. Its very surface flowed in rhythm with its rotation like watercolor paint, an atmosphere riddled in holes gained from over-industrialization above a sky that made the eye believe that hell was actually a place a person could visit. Through smog and mechanical monsters was where the king of destruction himself sat upon his throne of madness, his devilish eyes watching over Lylat with a hostile glare awaiting the perfect opportunity to strike. And then Fox could see the psychotic monkey curve his ugly lips into a satanic smile, bellowing a maniacal laugh at the hunk of burning scrap smoldering at his doorstep.

The sound of sliding doors came to his ears but Fox didn't bother to turn. He already knew who it was. It was _his_ office, anyhow.

The newcomer approached his side at a casual pace and stopped to take a gaze of his own into the stars. His hands reached up to remove his hat and brought it down to rest with his paws below.

"It's strange," Pepper spoke with a soft voice while standing at ease. "I've always wondered how could something appear so peaceful yet be so cruel upon creatures like ourselves. Have we truly done so bad that we deserve such endless brutality?"

"Some men deserve it," Fox answered, bleakly, still gazing blindly through the glass. "Some men don't."

"And yet while those men who do deserve to be punished remain, we watch those who don't continue to fall."

"Story of the world. The righteous die while the wicked live on."

"Indeed." Pepper took in a long breath of air through his nostrils. "We live in a world of irony, Fox."

The echoes of the station below continued to bounce from the office's door, purposefully built for soundproof. The air inside was also clear, free of the fumes and smug regularly present around the lower decks. The room, despite lacking in art and decoration, was considered luxurious by naval standards.

"I know I need not say it," Pepper began after a moment of silence. "But you have my condolences, my boy. Fate rarely gifts us with a man as great as your father."

Fox barely gave a nod in return, trying to not dwell on any of it. Despite not being one for small talk, his father had always been a good teacher. The lesson in question: dwell not on the past, just stay on target with the future.

_Good advice, Dad._

_Just what sort of future are we talking about?_

"I barely knew him," Fox spoke out all of the sudden, as if he were confessing a crime. "I knew what he stood for, what he did, but as a person, I just didn't…"

"Just look in a mirror." Pepper turned his head to take in his face. "All the answers are there."

He shook his head, dismissing the hound's claim for sympathetic sweet talk.

"Your father reminded me of many things," Pepper continued. "Much of it was ancient, forgotten lessons. Some of it was so true yet so hard to grasp. But that was the person he was, to me—to most of us. Something so real yet so _un_real, the life he led… Contradictory to the galactic stereotype, your father was anything but a privateer. Opportunistic, yes, but such is the way of your people. James, he… well, he was a maverick in so many ways. A _black knight,_ if your one for such terms. I honestly did believe he'd someday, in some way, lead us all into a better existence, down a path we weren't willing to travel, but the _right _path nonetheless."

Fox was no longer looking into space, but rather the glass wall itself, his snout pointed low towards his school uniform's collar. "How can anyone match up to a man like that?" he spoke in a heavy voice. "How could he…"

His words were soon drowned in a sick sensation rising up his throat, causing his body to convulse, as if the ghost of James McCloud was attempting to escape the bowls of his stomach and out past his snout. He closed his lips tight as he felt puke begin to knock past the back of his mouth, and Pepper, noticing his expression, dropped his hat, took him by the shoulders and quickly lead him to a metal wastebasket sitting beside his desk. The instant when he dropped feebly to his knees above the basket, he hurled out what remained of his lunch from school.

Pepper had taken a knee beside him, keeping a hand on his closest shoulder and rubbing his thumb into the tendon. He didn't worry much for the presence of puke in his office as he did for Fox's spirit, finally broken after an impressively long siege by the truth of James's death. Below, he began to hear him whimper, his body growing tense and shaking from the aftereffects of his sudden outbreak.

"Breathe deep, my boy," he spoke softly, continuing to lightly pat his back. "No son deserves this."


	5. Chapter 4

**4 -**

The following hours were met with a vow of silence throughout the Steel Collar. The secret had been spilled: Star Fox was no more and James McCloud, Lylat's homegrown messiah for hire, was now dead at the hands of an unknown enemy.

_Unknown._ It was all Pepper's doing to cover up the truth about Pigma's betrayal accompanied by the fact of Andross being alive. Like Peppy had said before, Corneria had a superstitious fear of the maniacal scientist-turned-fascist tyrant ever since the Venom Conspiracy forty years ago had nearly transformed Lylat, Corneria included, into a wasteland of near extinction.

The bloody memories of the past caused Pepper to bring the bore of his scotch down to fill his glass. Immediately claiming the swig, he took it down with one gulp. The alcohol drained slowly past his throat and burned its way down to the deepest corner of his stomach, causing his wet lips to grimace and his eyes to form tears. His office was darker than usual, ever since he closed the drapes over his space-view glass wall, just several bluish beams piercing through thin gaps transforming the room into a scene out of a ghost story. The general continued to sit sulking at his desk, pondering over recent history and trying to contemplate the next step up this shadowy set of stairs.

The Council of Confederacy had just recently agreed to his request to uphold a service in memoriam to Star Fox, dedicated to their past deeds for Corneria. He wasn't the least bit surprised that the ordeal hadn't gone smoothly. At first, the request was denied, the council giving the obvious excuse that Star Fox was an independent contractor, not Cornerian military, and a traditional military ceremony service dedicated to a band of grey-coats was outrageous. The general's argument was despite not _officially_ being members of the Cornerian military SF had proved from time and time again, from separate occasions to their tremendous assistance during the conspiracy, that they had earned their honorable place in Cornerian history. Privateer or not, James McCloud was a hero and all Cornerians were indebted to his service to the defense of their home. And being the commander-in-chief of the Cornerian armed forces, Pepper had the last say during any military-related tribunal.

James's funeral was to be held in three days.

Even after hiding the actual account of the massacre from the council's eyes, Pepper was still being met with more fire from under the public curtain. Apart from the pressing reality behind Andross being in control of the largest fleet in the system and the possibility of future war becoming ever closer to immanent, there was also the reality surrounding James's now fatherless pup.

Fox was staying in one of the VIP quarters down the hall. Ten hours had already passed since he was officially branded an orphan. He hadn't slept a blink since. Pepper only assumed the boy was still in the same position as he was when he first checked up on him three hours back: lying upon the bed, face up, staring blindly into the ceiling, not a tear or shred of emotion to be seen in his young complexion. Thinking, perhaps, of _what_ Pepper could not honestly say. His childhood, maybe, or perhaps even something as dark as revenge? That possibility alone scared Pepper, but also provided an almost childish curiosity. Fox as an individual had always possessed a keen mind, a born tactician. Once a rush of blood flew into his head, he knew little about rest and more about progress. To sit around and dwell upon the past was never much of a fox's style. James was immune to such shadows, and if Sebastian was truly his "father's son"…

The sound of his office door opening had suddenly broken through the depressing silence, and someone new had entered inside followed by an uncomfortable grunt behind closed lips. Pepper reached forward and switched on the lamp upon his desk. A dim sphere of life erupted within his shadowy retreat. The face of the stranger came through partially to Pepper's surprise but mostly to his relief.

"Cornelius," the newcomer spoke lightly.

"Peppy," Pepper returned calmly back. "Should've known you'd be up and about for a midnight stroll." He chuckled under a half-drunken breath. "Especially being in a condition where you shouldn't even be up at all."

Peppy pulled his sleeve tighter around his shoulder, showing little if not any pain. He wore the rest of his old clothes, from his maroon jumpsuit and his long tan flight coat down to his fastened boots. Among his new accessories was a leg brace supporting his broken knee and some of the gauzed bandages wrapped around the burns decorating his neck and wrists. These were just a few of the damages sustained in his voyage, the ones Pepper could see.

"I've come to give my thanks for Corneria's hospitality before I take my leave," he spoke in a way that the entire exchange appeared unexceptional to any other visit.

Pepper bowed his head, remaining seated in his chair. "And as always, on behalf of Corneria, we welcome your presence back whenever you should further need our assistance."

Towards the doorway, Peppy had finished fitting his burnt hands into his thick leather gloves. Looking up to Pepper, he gave a nod and turned to begin his exit.

"So is that it then, old friend?" Pepper spoke deeply before the hare had passed through the door. "It ends as simple as taking to the sky, starting fresh someplace else?"

Peppy had slowed to a halt between the open doors, continuing to look forward, silently, as if the road behind didn't exist.

"What happens to the boy, then?"

"I'll trust you to look after him." Peppy turned his head to acknowledge him. "It'll be bad health for me to stick around, not while Andross has a fresh bounty out for my head."

"The best I'll be able to do is hold him here for another twenty four hours. After that, I'll have to give him up to the state and consult with the council of what to do next."

Peppy's ears flickered and he turned around to meet Pepper's inquisitive gaze with skepticism.

"It isn't a secret that Star Fox has been disbanded." Pepper began to pour another shot of liquor into his glass. "As well as the death of James McCloud at the hand of an 'unknown enemy'."

Resentment flew through Peppy's features. His lips pressed together tight as he glanced to the side, giving off another breath of discomfort.

"They had to be told something, Peppy. I had no choice."

"I come back to tell a boy his father is dead and you feel instantly compelled to broadcast the news across the entire planet?"

"James may have been a father, but he was also a symbol, and when a symbol dies, the people need to know, or else this confederation turns into exactly that which we are trying to rid from the system." Pepper wiped his thumb around the edges of his glass before taking the shot. "There're enough bloody secrets being sheltered as it is."

Peppy lifted a hand to corrode his temple as he bowed his head with eyes closed, trying to separate logic from emotion. "Twenty-four hours from now, what happens to Fox?"

"Worst case scenario, the council overrules my judgment to keep him here out of reach of the press and orders him back planet-side." Pepper sat his glass back onto the desk, releasing an exhausted sigh as he rested further back into his chair. "Chances are the worst case will be the _only_ case."

"If that's the case, send him to Katina."

"I can't send him to Katina."

"Then send him to Fortuna. Just send him anywhere in confederation space where the council can't reach him."

"I can't pull rank in non-military matters, you know that." Pepper lifted his hands, as if to openly declare his uselessness. "And being he's a civilian and a licensed Cornerian citizen, he's under the authority of the state. Not mine."

Peppy shook his head, appearing unconvinced by the general's excuses. "This is dogshit. You can rebuke the demand and hold him here on a military basis. Tell them it's a part of an investigation into the attack. They can't argue with it."

"And you honestly expect this establishment will be able to hold tight around a creature like Fox McCloud, _indefinitely? _Please…" Pepper released a repressed chuckle. "The boy has _wings,_ for god's sake, let alone top cadet marks from his flight instructors in JROTC. How long you expect until he hijacks one of the fighters downstairs and goes out gunning for the monkey who killed his father?"

A smooth breath drifted from Peppy's nostrils. "Not long enough."

Pepper had lifted the bore of the scotch in an offering, but Peppy ignored it.

"I know what you're suggesting," Peppy began while looking off towards the drapes ahead. "I can tell you now, letting him chase after a vendetta is not a good idea."

"Between me and everybody else, I'm not suggesting anything." Pepper leaned further from his chair and rested his elbows against the seams of the desk. "But between you and me, I'm suggesting the boy needs better guidance than what the council has to offer him."

Peppy folded his arms and took another deep breath followed by a certain amount of reluctance drooling past his nostrils. "Believing the child could succeed where the parent failed…"

"I believe it's sufficed to say that Fox is no longer a child, and men in times like these have to make their own decisions."

"You're using him to get back at Andross."

"I can assure you I'm only looking out for his better interests." Pepper nudged his head in the direction of the glass wall. "Given his options, I can't see any good in him staying put. Cornerian protocol for dealing with any non-canine unaffiliated with the Conglomerate Pact is immediate deportation to colonial jurisdiction—James offered an exception to that rule and with him gone and Sebastian now an independent of age, the council management will quickly find an easy-enough reason to forfeit his residency. And let's be quite frank that if Venom currently has a hit on you, they most certainly have a hit on him. If he's deported, alone, it will only be a matter of time until one of your business rivals takes the opportunity to win an easy bounty. If there's one person left out there who can guide him through all of this, it has to be you."

From the hare's appearance alone, Pepper could see the first indications of a compromise—silence being the strongest of the clues. Peppy's mind was processing an ongoing backup plan different from the plan he first came into the room with, his eyes not sparing a blink while his nostrils continued to breathe at a steady pace.

"A fox is no easy prey," said Peppy after a moment of thinking. "Andross will send more than just a couple hunters to sniff him out."

"Which is why, if he's going to survive the next several months, he needs your support."

"It can't just be mine. My days are numbered already and they're plenty of people out there who want my head stuck on a mantle. He'll need a team, others he can rely on to watch his six."

Pepper flabby lips began to grow life and soon formed a wide grin. "The next generation."

Peppy took several steps farther into the room, making his appearance before the general's desk seem more business-oriented. "If we're gonna do this," he began, "you'll have to erase his file. Fox McCloud was never in any form a Cornerian."

"He wasn't. Starting now."

"Everything else, too, from social security to his last report card. As far as the system is concerned, Fox was never here to begin with."

"I'll have to pull several strings, but I'll do whatever needs to be done." Pepper leaned back into his chair, interlocking his fingers across his waist while resting his snout close to his chest.

"And I'll also have to borrow a transporter to make this appear to be all my doing."

"Ah, _stealing_ property belonging to the military. Should be enough to convince the council I had nothing to do with this." Pepper sniggered. "I can arrange to let it fly as long as you agree not to shoot anyone on your way out."

"With your help, I won't have to." Peppy nudged his chin to the direction of the door. "In return, you can have the Arwing. Disassemble what's left of it, analyze the systems, do whatever you want and take whatever you want from it."

Pepper's brow rose above his eyes. Reaching inside his desk drawer, he pulled out a spare glass cup. "That's quite a bargain," he answered while pouring scotch into each glass. "James would've never given up one of his fighters."

"Consider it a token of good faith." Peppy leaned further and supported his arms on top the edge of the general's desk. "For an old friend."

For the first time since he first arrived to the station, the hare gave a smile which could have easily been mistaken for a grin. Across the smooth metallic surface of the desk to where he sat, Pepper offered the second glass, Peppy accepting it with a polite nod.

"To sons of fathers passed," Pepper spoke while lifting his own glass.

Peppy tapped his glass to Pepper's giving birth to a short _ching._ "To Star Fox."

They both downed their glasses at once. While gulping his own, a sliver of liquor drained sloppily past Peppy's whiskers and slid down across his fur and towards his bandaged neck. The moment the sensation of alcohol making contact with burned skin erupted in his senses, he cringed and raised his hand to hold the bandage, hoping to quell the sting.

Pepper smirked from across the desk. "Cheers, big ears."

* * *

Walking with a busted leg was starting to annoy Peppy to the point where he considered ripping the brace from his knee and risk messing up the joint further. The hallways ahead appeared empty, to his better luck – if anybody other than Pepper knew he had broken out of the clinic with a pocket full of syringes containing morphine and adrenaline stimulants, he'd be detained and tried for a committing a capital offense.

None of it could equal to what Pepper could face for assisting an alleged pirate. Most likely he'd be court marshaled for treason and have his four stars ripped from his shoulder before being thrown to rot in the brig. But this wasn't the general's first time going out of the conventional bounds, disregarding the rules and affiliating himself with backroom dealings. Pepper knew politics just as well as battle tactics. The hound had been playing this game of odds with the system for decades and hadn't lost yet.

The corner up ahead marked the way towards the VIP section of the station, which was usually reserved for diplomats and conglomerate officials en route to the surface. The way was divided between lighted sections and shadows. Doors lined across the walls leading down towards the following corner, which had just begun to echo out footsteps to Peppy's sensitive ears.

_Ten sets of boots, twenty seconds away._

Possessing big ears had its benefits.

Seeing time, he tried to move both fast and silently towards the doors, all the while keeping a hand gripped tight at the brace strapped around his thigh.

_Room 17… Room 18…_

He continued to scan the numerals until he realized the one in question must've lied behind the next corner. The footsteps were now noticeable to an ape's ear and he quickly moved towards a darker section of the hallway, where the wall curved in and provided an ample enough space to hide from the open. The footsteps continued to echo and there was some chatter going around between hounds.

_"__They said something about it over the radio,"_ one voice echoed through. _"The whole freaking surface knows now."_

_ "__Somebody must've spilled the beans,"_ a second voice spoke in. _"Probably one of the dock lickers who were in the hangar when it happened."_

_ "__Hard to believe, man."_

_ "__Yeah, you just wait. Monkeys are gonna be flying in any day and this station's gonna get sliced in half."_

_"__Along with the whole damn planet."_

_"__All because _he's_ finally gone."_

_ "__And may the poor bastard rest in peace. Probably up in heaven right now soaking in a hot tub of liquid gold being served barbequed mice by a couple naked fox chicks."_

_ "__Amen to that."_

Peppy held his breath while a group of ten or so Cornerian pilots walked by while fastening on their helmets, making their way from the barracks down to the hangars.

_"__Well, look at the up-side." _The men continued their walk to opposite side of the hall, unaware of any presence other than their own._ "Least now we get to kick ass the conventional way."_

_ "__Yeah, no more money laundering mercs we gotta pay to get the job done."_

_ "__Still, would've been nice to meet him. You know, the guy was one of my heroes growing up. Started flight school because of him."_

Peppy shook his head in sympathy.

_Rest in peace, James._

Stepping out once the pilots were several paces past his hiding spot, Peppy started to silently move for the next corner. But something suddenly brought his feet to an instant halt. A scent, or maybe some kind of instinct embedded beneath his hide. He turned around to view the pilots' backsides, and something immediately became peculiar at the center of his gaze.

Among the dozen men, there were predominantly hounds of the average height and girth with their heads shielded beneath helmets. To the rear, however, one of them came through fairly "shorter", and below his forest green flight coat, Peppy barely noticed the shimmer of a fluffy orange tail with a white tip.

_Ambitious little bastard…_

Peppy grinned and shook his head, giving a quiet chortle.

"You'd be proud, James," he murmured.

* * *

The walk was long and tedious, especially while trying to remain imperceptible amongst this circle of "broskies" who seemed like strangers to the concept of "silent duty". The jacket and helmet were a nice touch, though. As long as none of them asked him a question directly, Fox was well in the clear.

In no time, they had reached the lower deck past a service elevator and he could hear the _cling_ and _clang_ of the hangar up ahead. The pilots around him continued gossiping about the possibilities of a future attack from Venom. Fox didn't care for the subject. As far as he was concerned, it was all irrelevant to his purpose. Even now, as he brought up the rear of the squad, he was continuing to go through his purpose over and over again, keeping his resolve as solid as a rock. He knew what he needed to do as well as what he had become: a loose cannon with nothing to lose and only one final thing to gain… Vengeance.

The hangar was just beyond the open doors ahead. There had to have been a hundred personnel running about outside, making escape appear like an unwinnable crapshoot. The flight suit will only be able to keep his identity hidden for so long – it wouldn't be too difficult to pick him out in the open, thanks to this damned tail, and the helmet only covered as much as his ears down to his eyes leaving his snout mostly exposed. He'll have to be quick, try to keep to groups and not remain exposed for too long. When a window finally came into view—no telling as to _when_ that would be, though—he'll have to take it without second thought. Any hesitation would mean failure in the blink of an eye.

_Moment of truth, Daddy's boy._

Suddenly, just as he was stepping through the doors, an intercom ping echoed through the entire hangar, followed by an officer's voice.

_"__Attention, all personnel on Docking Bay Thirteen. There is a level two radiation spill detected in the vicinity. All personnel are ordered to cease all current activity and report immediately to Dock Six for scanning and decontamination."_

The call through the intercom had brought the entire area to a standstill, and Fox, who stood idle amongst a small mass, began to suspect that some kind of guardian angel had something to do with it.

"What, _again?"_ one of the pilots broke through the after-chatter. "That's the third time this week!"

"Good ol Lucky Thirteen. Get ready to lose some testosterone, mateys."

"These scans can't be good for my future litter, man."

"Either this or you help give birth to a couple mutated lizards."

The hangar had begun to disperse and leave for the outer doors. Fox stood casually beside the stream of exiting dockhands and pilots, trying to keep his face low and out of their sight before taking up the rear of the flow. Just as he was about to pass along through the doors, he faded towards the wall and quickly pressed down on the door control, bringing the two halves together to cut off sight of the crew.

Turning around and taking several steps further into the hangar, there was no one else in sight, and better yet, the hangar door-gates had been opened, perhaps out of protocol with a radiation leak (something of an "air-out" method to filter the leak into space). This was too good to be true. Fox may have been one for luck, but this was turning out to appear like a bona fide miracle of somebody else's doing.

Without sparing a moment to bask in his fortune, he jogged for the launch pads at the center of the immense room. The echoes of his boots bounced across the far away walls reminding him of an empty coliseum. But while moving closer towards the center, he picked out something strange in the corner of his eye. Something that didn't match the classic Cornerian architecture. At first, it appeared like a rugged hunk of scrap hanging five feet off the flat floor from a ceiling crane. But there was an all-too-familiar red insignia stamped upon its partially disintegrated dorsal fin, one depicting the winged Valkyrie Fox, and without a second guess, he instantly recognized it to be an Arwing, minus the _wings._

Peppy's old fighter, he could only guess. It was a wonder how the old hare managed to fly this half-totaled deathtrap in the half-dead condition he was in. He wondered what he would say about his whole "going rogue" scheme of his. Fox felt a small urge break past his shielded resolve to go find the hare and tell him face to face.

_Sorry to jet, Uncle Pep, but I'm in a hurry._

Up ahead, a Cornerian scout fighter sat between two movable missile shelves, each miniature warhead the size of a football sitting in rows of a dozen per shelf. Even though it appeared only half-armed to full capacity, it was his only bet, being the remainders of the fighters were hoisted high above towards the ceiling on standby. And despite Fox knew well enough how to fly a small spacecraft, he was no engineer and didn't have a clue of where to find the mechanism to bring the other planes down. Removing his helmet and dropping it to the floor, he leapt onto the outward V-shaped wing and swooped quickly into the cockpit. Inside, all the controls appeared like standard stock, similar enough to the training vessels used by the junior corps. Activating power to the mainframe, the controls lit up green and, to his surprise, everything appeared to check out operational.

_G-diffuse… check._

_Armaments… half-check._

_Navigational and life support systems… check-check._

Beginning to pull at the lever besides the console, he ignited the engines, and then moved his hand to grip the primary throttle.

He was just seconds away from pulling off an astounding escape when the plain image of the situation came through to him in full light and with very little sense.

_Sure you know what you're doing?_

A sudden, but casual knock on the cockpit glass nearly sent his body through the top. To the side, Peppy's features came through like a cop asking for his license and registration. From what Fox could tell in their exchange of blank looks, he was neither furious nor shocked, but rather content with the view from outside. He eventually gave a nudge of his chin, and Fox immediately opened the cockpit.

"You'll want to use a transporter," the hare suggested right away before Fox could even gain a breath. "Gives off a less-than-lethal profile."

"Peppy, what are you—"

"And think twice before jumping into any random ship." He tapped his boot several times against what appeared to be a large yellow claw looped around the fighter's landing gears. "Increases your life expectancy."

Fox sat up and glimpsed down past the hull and took notice of the lock. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, whispering a curse under his tongue while switching off the ignition bringing the fighter back to silence.

"May I ask whether or not your current plan consists of killing a certain notorious ape living on the opposite side of the system?" Peppy asked, his voice sounding unimpressed and unenthusiastic.

"I'm going after Pigma," Fox clarified with a glare. "If it wasn't for that two-timing swine, Dad wouldn't have flown into that trap to begin with. Andross can rot down on Venom for all I care."

Peppy's brow rose, his misty complexion suddenly appearing impressed. "Well, then you're not as much of a demented yahoo as I thought. Not to mention now you give me an even better reason to help out."

"You're coming with me?"

"I'd be a bastard to say no. Pigma may have scooped in a good sum for throwing us to the wolves, but he also signed his death warrant. I plan to send his soul screaming down to hell like a piglet about to have its head chopped off."

Fox frowned, unsure of the offer for help. Despite he felt inclined to personally see to Pigma's justice, Peppy was also entitled to half the pie. He knew his father longer and better than Fox ever did.

"Best we ship off right away." Peppy glanced warily to his blind spots. "Otherwise it's a lifetime behind bars for the both of us. Let's go."

Peppy had immediately stepped away and it took Fox a moment to recollect himself and finally climb out of the cockpit. Towards the left side of the fighter, he noticed the hare crouched over something. He turned around and suddenly Fox realized he was holding two of the football shaped warheads between his arms like twin newborns.

"What are you doing?"

Peppy's fingers gripped around one of the explosives and tossed it over to Fox, who caught it in hectic desperation. "Just keeping to a bargain," explained the hare while beginning to limp away from the fighter, Fox moving to catch up.

In no time, without asking what exactly Peppy's intent was, Fox soon noticed their path was leading directly towards the wrecked Arwing. Fiddling with the exposed wires, the warhead in Peppy's grip soon blipped an electronic ring, and several small red lights suddenly began flashing on and off past its protective cylinder.

"Your father would be turning in his grave if he ever knew I bargained off one of the Wings," he spoke while ducking below the suspended craft and slipping the warhead into one of the exhaust vents below what was left of the armor. Turning around, he motioned Fox to toss him the second warhead. The moment he caught it, he rapidly worked around the wires along the base, fearlessly, as if handling explosives had once been an adolescent pastime. Once the ping rung through and the red lights began to flash, he tossed the small bomb into the open cockpit.

Fox below stood on his toes, trying to estimate how long they had before the improvised explosives blew the fighter into a giant party favor of razor sharp shrapnel.

Peppy continued to grumble. "I swear, his ghost would be kicking me in the tail every time I'd set eyes on a fighter."

Peppy had ducked one last time below the melted core and fumbled his hands around both of the parallel blue fins shielding the G-diffuse system and primary lasers. He arose up with what looked like two giant cut sapphires and began to lead Fox away from the blast radius and set a course to the parked transporter thirty yards across the flight deck.

_"__What happens if the military got a hold of that thing, Pep?"_ the hare mocked to himself, using a mimic of James's voice. _"We'd be out of the job and you'd be the first to go, big ears."_

In no time, they had reached the dormant transporter which appeared to be "conveniently" set for take-off, the rear cargo ramp lowered and everything. Hopping onto the ramp, Fox turned to support Peppy's weakened steps aboard. It wasn't surprising to see the hare's old wounds were finally beginning to take toll on his stamina. Apparently, a two-week recovery time meant several hours of sleep before a daring departure, according to a seasoned frontiersman like Peppy Hare.

The old hare cursed in pain as he forced himself to bend his bad leg to make it on top of the ramp. Once he was stable, he moved immediately for the cockpit, typing a code into the keypad beside the compartment door and passing through the opened hatch. Back towards the troop hold, a sudden echo came through to Fox's ears causing him to glimpse out past the ramp towards the far end of the hangar. Just as he gained a look ahead, a group of six figures in dark green uniforms carrying shapes in the form of guns stepped past an open doorway and instantly took notice of Fox standing exposed within the transporter.

_"__Hey, you! Halt!"_

_I'm not even moving, you morons,_ he was tempted to answer.

"Pep, we got company."

Back at the pilot's seat on the left side of the cockpit, Peppy ignited the engines, erupting a stutter rather than the proper _thrum._

"Pepper, you son of a…" Fox barely heard him murmur. "Figures you give me this piece of junk. Hope you enjoy your new Arwing."

"Peppy, they're onto us," said Fox as he tried to activate the ramp controls.

_"__Get out of that ship or we'll shoot!" _The security guards continued their sprints down the hangar, now less than fifty yards away.

_"__Peppy!"_

"Relax," the hare's voice echoed back, appearing more annoyed than stressed. Inside, he had managed to crack open a compartment of wires and spark plugs, reaching in and trying to reconfigure the ignition for a better kick.

_"__Last warning!"_

The guards had stopped and raised their weapons, preparing to fire. But before Fox or the guards could react, a titanic bang echoed through the hangar and a fireball erupted from over by the Arwing. The force of the explosion shook the foundations below and caused the guards to dive down in fear for their lives. Shrapnel flew across the air like throwing knives, several pieces bouncing from the ramp in a ricochet, one coming as close as his boot where Fox ducked down in reaction.

The explosion barely even phased Peppy as he rewired several power routers, and soon, after bringing about a spark within the bundle of wires, the ignition revved and brought the engines up from the grave.

_"__Hold on back there."_

Fox rose to his feet, gripping his ears still ringing from the blast. But while seeing the guards still dazed upon the ground outside, he quickly fought past his own shock and reached up to activate the ramp, just as Peppy was beginning to raise the throttle and bring the craft up into a hover. Turning around, his legs still shaking, he began to jog down the aisle and made his way into the cockpit, claiming the left-hand seat beside Peppy. He took a breath of relief as he plummeted into the chair, but turned to the right once he realized Peppy was staring at him.

"What is it?"

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah." Fox shook himself quickly, trying to wear away the aftershock of the Arwing going off like a bomb before his eyes.

"Buckle up. We're not out of the woods yet."

Fox fastened his harness while looking past the glass ahead and soon noticed the door-gates of the hangar had begun to close automatically, probably due to standard procedure in the event of an explosion which could be misinterpreted as an attack.

_"__Oh,_ this brings me back," Peppy spoke with a grin at the pilot's chair.

Fox continued to skeptically watch the gates slowly barricade off their escape. "So I assume you know what you're doing."

"More or less." Peppy continued to cook the engines, the ship rising a couple inches higher into the air every passing second. "This particular line of work demands so much that we gotta rely the majority of our faith in luck."

To the side, Fox looked over with his eyes perplexed and his lips frozen in a frown.

"Just trust your instincts," Peppy added, calmly. "You'll get used to it."

Following his words, Peppy slowly raised the throttle and the ship began a steady accelerated pace forward. Up ahead, the gates had already barred off one half of the opening. Nothing in Peppy's calm eyes spoke of any worry, and Fox soon forced himself to sit back and trust his expertise. The moment the nose passed by the twin gates, there was an ear-splitting screech where the doors just barely scrapped the bulky wings of the transporter.

Peppy chuckled to the side once the screech had finally passed on. "Never gets old," he spoke in a sigh.

"If you ever got the opinion I doubted you," said Fox as he loosened his deathly grip on his harness, "you can go ahead and punch me in the face. I won't stop you."

Peppy hummed a laugh as they flew past the hugging arms of the station and entered into open space. Switching on several systems, Peppy had begun to bank to the right, and soon, the terrestrial jewel of Lylat, Corneria, entered into plane view and to Fox's instant bewilderment.

"This can't be part of the plan," he said.

"Hold up." Peppy tapped a few switches and brought up the ship's radar. "Yep, there's our interceptors."

Fox turned to the side of the glass and tried to gain a view of their rear. Several lights and engine flares passed overhead and soon disappeared behind the ship's tail.

_"__TS One-forty, you're currently in violation of stealing a vessel belonging to the Cornerian navy." _The call came through the radio frequency from the ship console. _"We will escort you back to Spike Station Victor Six. If you do not respond, we will you use deadly force."_

"Is it too much to hope for a plan B?" Fox asked.

Peppy appeared to lean further back into his chair. "We wait and hope our luck doesn't run out."

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"We'll be fine as long as Pepper keeps his word."

Fox sat back, shaking his head. "I knew this whole thing was too convenient to be just dumb luck."

A moment of silence came through the transporter as they continued flying towards the atmosphere at a steady pace.

_"__TS One-forty, discontinue your current course and respond now or we will be forced to open fire."_

"C'mon, general…" Peppy's lips started to grow tight over his front tooth. "Make the call already."

_"__Final warning! We will destroy your ship if you continue this course."_

A stream of red light suddenly ran past the hull of the transporter following the sounds of laser-fire through the ship's real-time audio amplifier.

"Screw this." Fox reached forward to claim the secondary headset for the radio.

"It was just a warning shot."

"I don't care."

"Fox, what are you doing?"

"If we don't tell them something in the next five seconds, we're space dust. There's no point in keeping me secret. They already saw my face back at the hangar."

Peppy was about to argue back, but froze and eventually closed his lips in submission.

"This is TS One-forty," Fox spoke into the headset. "That's a negative on a return. Repeat. That's a negative on a return."

_"__TS One-forty, identify yourself immediately."_

"This is Fox McCloud. Tell General Pepper I'm not turning this ship around."

_"__McCloud? How did you—I'm sorry, I can only abide to a request to see the general only if you're landed back station-side."_

"Well, then you're just gonna have to shoot us, because I'm not stopping this ship for anything." Fox glanced to the side where Peppy watched on with his fingers caressing his long whiskers, as if he were a detective trying to decipher a puzzle inside his head.

Another bout of silence came over the transporter, with just the ambient hum of the running engines drifting from the troop hold to the cockpit.

"Do you think they're backing off?" Fox asked while listening in.

Peppy shook his head while keeping his eyes forward. "I don't know."

Not long after silence regained its foothold, a beep suddenly begun to blip from a miniature red light close to the dashboard. Peppy instantly rose up from his chair and manned a tighter grip onto the controls.

"They've just armed their missiles." He quickly flipped several switches. "I've got countermeasures ready in case they decide to go hot."

"Wait a minute," Fox spoke through the blips. "You say you made a deal with Pepper?"

"He was supposed to empty the hangar and pull off the fighters." Peppy shook his head. "Guess he didn't appreciate the mess we left behind."

Fox sat still and silent while his eyes took in Corneria's atmosphere growing closer by the second. In just a minute, if the ships behind them held off their fire long enough, they'd be entering the stratosphere.

Suddenly, something occurred to him, causing his glazed eyes to finally give a blink. "Don't fire the countermeasures."

Peppy instantly shot him a glare. "Did that last blast rattle your brain or something?"

"Trust me. Let them shoot at us."

"Do you have any idea how long this junker will hold up after a direct hit?"

"Just do it."

Peppy continued to stare at him, at first speechless. But in his steady eyes there was something fighting back his reluctance to listen, and eventually, after several more blips, he reached forward to switch off the countermeasures.

The next five seconds were the longest Fox had ever experienced in his life. Time appeared to slow down, along with the flashing red of the missile alert. All he could hear in his ears was the ping of the light, and even the sound appeared to come through slower, as if to purposefully dramatize the possibility of death taking him in the coming moment.

The ping suddenly turned into a long stream and the light had had become dormant. But despite what he originally thought, time didn't come to a pause. Instead, a growing orange light had begun to shine over the nose of the transporter, and in the following split second, Fox watched as a glowing projectile flew twenty feet above the left wing and continued to travel on. The very dangerous, yet ironically wondrous sight of it resembled an angel falling to the planet's surface, all before detonating into a blinding yellowish flash.

_"__Hold on!"_ yelled Peppy as the aftershock of the blast rumbled through the transporter's weakly foundations like a violent earthquake. Some sparks flew from the controls while the metal sheets layering the interior of the troop hold broke loose and clattered down onto the aisle.

The rumbling roller coaster ride soon came to a steady close as they passed on through the afterglow emitted from the missile. Fox felt the tension that had grown inside his chest finally give in and allow him to breathe. Peppy to his side checked the radar and noticed the energy signatures had begun to fade as the fighters in their wake broke off of their pursuit.

He slowed the transporter to a halt a mile away from the beginning layers of the atmosphere, releasing a steady sigh while slumping back into his chair.

"Care to explain, ace?" he asked, lazily, finally giving off the appearance of an old workingman who couldn't wait for the day of his epic retirement.

Fox had begun to relax, finally feeling safe enough to give his mind a rest. "Just a lucky gamble," he explained after taking a deep breath of air. "If they were gonna shoot us down, they'd of done it sooner. Part of the general's idea, I suppose. If I had to guess, he's putting out the word now that we're vaporized."

"Playing us for dead." Peppy closed his grinning lips, trying to contain a laugh of joy. "We should all aim to be as clever as that old war mutt."

* * *

The small ring of luminescence left over by the missile drifted into the endless ether. From the view of the bridge, the space around the planet appeared empty and untouched.

"Missile's been detonated, general. Target has just begun to enter the atmosphere."

"Their ship is still intact?"

"There was a minor malfunction in the cockpit from the draft, but they've recovered."

Pepper allowed the air trapped in his lungs to vacate as he looked down from the observation glass. "Recall the interceptors," he ordered. "Have them report directly to the bridge for debriefing."

"They're already RTB, sir."

"Send out a salvage crew, sweep for debris, then state on the report all remnants were dissolved once making contact with the atmosphere."

"Yes, sir."

"People, the truth of this matter you have just paid witness to is now deemed confidential high and beyond the eyes of anybody outside this room." Pepper stepped further into the dome command center while the remainder of the staff was momentarily paused from their work duties and listening in. "If there are concerns among any of you regarding my judgment at this moment, I will gladly listen to them now and not hold any of it against you in the future."

The bridge was hushed among the electronic ambience, every man and woman either standing at ease or seated silent at their stations. Among the faces he could see, Pepper was thankfully pleased to see only steadfast expressions absent of any doubt.

"Sir," one female intelligence officer broke the silence from her seat. "Permission to speak freely?"

Pepper gave an approving nod.

"He's just a boy," said the officer, openly. "No older than my son. We're not even sure what's waiting for him out there."

"He's James McCloud's pup," a communication officer from nearby added, pulling his headphones down to rest around his collar. "Boy like that can look after himself."

"Being the son of a legend's gotta count for something in this world." Commander Rosenburg stood at ease towards the center close to Pepper. "If it was my old man, I'd of done the same. I say let him go to do what he needs to do."

"Let him go," several voices repeated, separately.

"Sir?" the intelligence officer who first spoke returned directly. "What do you think? Will he be alright?"

Pepper's face grew solemn as his body gradually turned to the side and reproached the glass wall overlooking Corneria's tranquil axis. His relaxed eyes seemed to stare for miles into the planet and take in the beauty it possessed upon the surface.

Corneria – fourth planet of the Lylat System; the crowned jewel of the cosmos; the last line of defense against the forces of tyranny; the _one_ true thing that he would gladly give his life to defend. And when it came down to his home's safety, Pepper was willing to utilize everything at his disposal. _Everything, _including whatever help from the outside.

Corneria stopped Andross once before… but they didn't do it alone. It'd be a lie to say that the general alone deserved the credit for defeating the demonic mastermind. It'd be sufficed to say that he and the others deserved very little credit from back then. It'd be a dishonor to deny that their victory was carried home upon the strained backs of a worthy few who chose to fight as their own nation, the few who stormed into battle flying one unique banner which in time became a symbol of hope throughout all the free worlds. And it would be unthinkable to forget the man who led them in from the very beginning.

And now it was time for the next generation to take a stand, and for the boy to become something greater than just a man.

"He's his father's son," Pepper finally answered, upon lifting his chin and inhaling a shallow breath.


	6. Chapter 5

**5 -**

The masses of the lower city moved along like endless schools treading through winding rivers in evening rush hour. Looking from the skyways, they all appeared nonexistent, the view from above resembling the downward gaze of a giant watching armies of insignificant ants shuffling about.

At least that's what he remembered it to be like, back when Fox lived in the upper districts of Calidame. And now, instead of traveling in the backseat of a hovercab, he was walking amongst the lower populace, one downtrodden soul amongst an entire ocean.

He wasn't used to moving past crowds this thick. Occasionally he'd bump into one stranger and offer his apologies before being returned with nothing. They didn't care for him, and honestly, he couldn't blame them. He was nothing in their eyes – just another nobody on a gloomy walk through the lower city ghettos.

That's exactly what he needed to be right now: invisible.

Peppy led the way as they squeezed by the people traffic, moving farther inward towards the social section of this particular boulevard. Even with a busted leg, he slipped by every passing person the same as if he were brushing through ghosts. Fox continued to struggle from behind, trying to watch the crusty pavement below riddled in potholes while keeping one eye up on the crowded path ahead. The establishments lined parallel across the street every so often caught his attention, from grimy apartment complexes to general stores to pubs. That was the most frequent on this particular street, from what he could tell. There was a bar at every corner. Each was packed like full barrels of thirsty fish out to waist their meager day's pay on a couple of suds. Despite appearing not to possess a lick of sense, Fox could imagine why they were so prominent, especially here. Not far away from where Peppy landed the transporter in an old construction yard, half the district was swarming with wage-driven mixed breeds who most likely worked in the local foundries. So the prominence of pubs wasn't suspicious. Alcoholism was just another form of anti-depressants used to wipe away the depressing reality of a proletariat life half spent soaking in liquor and the other making the metals used to keep the skyscrapers above appearing in pristine shape.

The smell was the worse, however, coming through like a mix of puke and burning fuel. Fox had to force himself to breathe through his mouth rather than his nose. It only worked so well.

Up ahead, Peppy had come to a light post which he dropped his shoulder beside. His suddenly weakened appearance brought about a spurt of concern in Fox and he rushed over.

The withered hare had begun to squint and blink his eyes while his lips remained parted in fatigue. He raised his bandaged hand to rub at the blood stained gauze covering his burnt neck.

"You alright?" Fox asked while stepping to his side, barely out of the way of the incoming traffic.

"I'll be fine." Peppy had begun to reach into his coat pocket and fumble his fingers around. "Just need another pick-me-up to stay awake."

Fox watched as he pulled out a small syringe which resembled an epipen. "What is that?"

"Some adrenaline I borrowed back from the clinic. It's been doing the trick so far." Uncapping the shot and exposing his furry wrist beneath his sleeve, he stabbed the short needle into his hide and released the fluid into his bloodstream. Up above, his eyes grew wide as he took a deep breath before shaking off the immediate effects.

"You're gonna need to get some real rest soon," said Fox. "You've got to be close to your limit."

"Your dad used to tell me the same thing." Peppy gave him an amused grin. "And who are _you_ to tell me what _my_ limit is, junior?"

Fox frowned as he gave up in his "offering of advice" to the old timer. Some minutes later after they started back up their pace down the boulevard, Fox decided to ask what had been eating at his mind ever since the hare took a right after the station and brought him back down to the public eye.

"So, you gonna tell me what exactly we're doing here?" he asked above the crowd chatter to where Peppy limped beside him, appearing to had gained a fraction of his life back after taking that little booster shot.

"Business," Peppy answered. "You can't go flying into space blind or else you'll get yourself lost in a hurry. Finding a single person out there is like picking out a snowflake that looks different from a million others, and in Pigma's case, it's like doing it all in pitch black – it's impossible."

"So we sniff out a trail that can lead us to him, and when we find him, we take him out."

"Finding him is one thing, but killing him will be a whole other challenge entirely. You've gotta know who you're hunting. Pigma's a coward on his own, so chances are he's already hooked up with a new crew."

"Maybe he's gone into hiding."

"Probably not. He's too greedy to sit back and live off of what he's got. He'll be looking for more work, better ways to make money, and he'll most definitely do it in the private sector. The bastard's a wild boar. He enjoys killing too much to drop the gun and go for retirement."

Fox sighed, unsure of where to go next. "So who out there would want to take him in?"

"Your dad and I weren't the only players in the business," Peppy explained. "They're plenty of different groups who'd see use in letting a professional sociopath onboard who'll do whatever's asked of him if it involves a reward on his end. That's what we need to do – sort out the different groups and find out which one is better bound to be housing him."

Fox gave a confident nod before putting his eyes onto the street, their actual destination still a mystery in the back of his mind.

"By the way," Peppy added. "Congratulations on graduating school. You're father would've been proud."

The memories of the academy soon returned to him and Fox began to feel his blood flow thinner than usual. "Graduation's next month," he clarified.

"Pity." Peppy continued his pace normally but sounded sympathetic. "Shame they couldn't have picked a drier time before this storm came thundering down over you."

Fox spared a chuckle, but his lips remained frowning. "No kidding."

"Oh, and now I may as well mention you're not a citizen anymore. So in any case you see local immigration enforcement stalking about, just stay under the radar and try not to do anything stupid."

Fox instantly rolled his head at the news, but surprisingly didn't feel _surprised._ "Terrific. First you make a backroom deal with Pepper that nearly gets us vaporized, next you decide to turn me into a goddamned illegal. Anything else you do behind my back I should know about?"

"Well, your entire profile has been erased. Supposedly you never set foot on Corneria to begin with."

Fox's arms lifted dramatically from his sides. "Oh, no worries," he mocked. "It's not like I had a _life_ here or anything."

Peppy shrugged his shoulders, even more careless of the matter. "Complications in life force us to improvise, and not always will our compromises be enjoyable ones."

"You know, I was going to the prom with the most beautiful piece of tail you can imagine."

Peppy spared a chuckle. "I've got a big imagination."

"And the best part of it was that _she_ asked _me."_

"Was she a fox?"

"No."

_"__Hrm…" _Peppy's eyes continued staring forward in a bleak sense of focus. "Awkward."

Fox continued to dwell on the possibilities that could have happened if that soldier never showed up to class yesterday. Rhyleen would've been jogging up to meet him, looking as gorgeous as ever, saying that pussycat Doberman, Dobbs, was too bruised up to go out, and now that offer in using his well earned gamble winnings to buy her dinner was back on the counter. All this time, Bill would be in the background throwing out lame jokes and trying to shade away the reality that he _wished_ he was at least half as awesome as "yours truly".

"Yeah, sorry about leaving your golden school life behind." Peppy took a left at the following corner and opened up a new street that led into a crowded market circle. "You can send your girlfriend a postcard from Bangalor forest when we get there."

"What's in Bangalor?"

"You'll know when we get there."

Upon entering the market circle, there were several box shaped buildings lining along the axis. Among them were concession stands selling strange alien livestock and other peculiar foreign goods. Some of the creatures Fox could pick out caught him by surprise: a few reptilian traders who appeared like mixes between gators and snakes, some overgrown rodent-like beavers dressed up like nomads, and even several bird species he had never seen before. The one universally bountiful race he couldn't find any of was felines. Cats weren't exactly fans of cross-species socializing, tending to remain isolated to their home worlds amongst their own kind. To see one on canine-dominated Corneria was… obviously… not what one would consider conventionally sound.

Seeing so many different peoples moving about in one environment was abnormal, at least to Fox, who had grown up as an anomaly constantly in the presence of upper tier hounds. He quickly began to feel more at home in this particular open section of the dank lower city. Here, people passed him over for just another traveler, no different from the stranger to his side – a universal equality that an orange and white furred fox could appreciate.

"Here we are." Peppy moved closer to one building in particular, a pub which, unlike the others they passed, was exceptionally smaller in size and scarce of patrons.

"This is where we can scoop up a hint?"

"It's a private saloon," Peppy explained. "Information dealership, local safe house for fugitives, rendezvous for the black market… Basically, all the makings of an underground cesspool for everything illegal. I know a guy on the inside who can help us out."

"So he gives us the information we need to find Pigma."

"Maybe, but we're not here for Pigma."

"Then why _are_ we here?"

Peppy slowed to a halt several paces from the doorway, gripping his leg brace for a better fit. "As much as you want to believe this is as simple as hide-and-seek," he explained while putting off a shallow vibe of annoyance, "Pigma isn't a one man army. He'll have allies, no telling as to how many watching his six. I may be good, but I'm no James McCloud when it comes to a knife fight between Arwings. You and I alone isn't enough. We're going to need help, and I think I know just the guy who may be able to give us the edge we need."

* * *

Past the old wooden doorway into the bar, the immediate smell reminded Fox of melted tar, and he immediately gave a brief cough to clear his lungs. The room appeared to be standard for any other old-fashioned saloon, but the lack in size and crowd made it feel more or less abandoned. There were several dark wooden tables cut into the shape of circles towards the left while the bar counter, made of the same glossy wood, stood to the right of the skinny aisle directly ahead. The size supported this was indeed a private establishment, being it appeared too small to house in the hectic randoms from the outside. Five men total were present: two men sharing a bottle at one of the tables, another couple smoking cigarettes at the counter, and the bartender who occupied himself with scrubbing a glass mug with the corner of his apron. Unlike its counterparts down the street, everything in this particular joint appeared tidy and spotless, with the exception of the ceiling above which was deeply stained from the humidity leaking in from the outside air.

Their entrance was soon taken notice by the pair of rough-looking mutts at the bar, who stubbed their cigarettes into the neighboring ashtray while taking a stand from their stools. They wore rangy coats similar to the ones worn by the factory workers outside. Everything about their appearance was messy, as if they were secretly refugees seeking cover from a distant quarrel.

"Drink or business," the scarred face German Shepherd to the left spoke while resting his hands inside his coat pockets.

"Business," Peppy answered.

To the side, Fox stared towards the Shepherd's pockets and saw a familiar shape that resembled that of a pistol.

The tall Shepherd gave a moment of silence while glancing down to Peppy's exterior with cold eyes, and then over to Fox, taking in the faded green Cornerian flight jacket still covering his torso. Soon, though, he gave a nudge of his snout towards the buff Labrador who stood to his right, dormant like a bouncer awaiting orders to throw them out. The Lab returned with approaching Peppy first, who without question rose his arms up from their sides while the Lab began to pat against his sleeves and hips. After working his way down to his legs, he arose and performed the same routine on Fox, who stood by compliant.

Upon receiving a nod from the Lab, the Shepherd removed his hands from his pockets and folded his arms. "Who you here for?"

"Gonzo."

The Shepherd glanced back to the opposite end of the isle where a stairway led up to the second floor while a doorway underneath appeared to go down to the cellar. He soon turned back and gave a nod of approval, and Peppy had begun to follow the Shepherd down the aisle with Fox keeping close. They soon reached the withered door beneath the stairway and the Shepherd gave one knock. The door opened to reveal another heavily built hound wearing similar dirty attire.

"They're clean," said the Shepherd and the guard behind the door took a step back to allow Peppy and Fox through.

Down the creaky stairway between the rusty foundations of the saloon above, chatter had grown in abundance, among laughs and what Fox assumed to be some foreign interpretation of soft jazz echoing from further in. But among the ambience drifting up to his ears, there was a hazy luminescence that swam and flickered across the walls. Instead of fusion power, the room below was bleeding torch light.

Upon reaching the bottom, the true reality of the saloon hit Fox like a hidden chameleon revealing its true colors. There were dozens of patrons across the cellar, which gave off a more believable impression of a saloon with more tables housing groups, tight-dressed waitresses strutting about serving drinks, and a band of musicians playing upon a stage at the opposite corner. Smoke hovered around the ceiling like a low-lying cloud while a rusty chandelier hung at the center spewing a dozen miniature flames. To the left of the stage at the opposite side, there was a line of different men awaiting entrance into the backrooms, larger hounds standing guard by the doorways like statues.

The entire atmosphere brought Fox to a smile. Men sitting upon stools at the bar over to the left side of the cellar laughed in drunken delight while females of numerous races stood loosely by, allowing several of the men to flirt and take advantage of them. To his right flank, Peppy looked past the hodgepodge of pleasantries and moved into the thick while Fox followed closely behind, glazed eye from taking in the sights with childish fascination.

"Whatever you do," Peppy spoke back to him, "don't talk to anyone."

Making easy headway through the system of occupied tables that made up the majority of the cellar, Fox continued to give wary glances around to the different groups sitting about, tending to separate businesses or just sitting idle with their drinks. Among the most interesting specimens he came by were two shady individuals sitting bent over something upon the table. When one of them (appearing to be a saggy bulldog) rose up while licking his gargantuan lips, he could see a golden framed stethoscope stuck between his right eye while his bulky fingers brandished several clear stones Fox assumed to be off-world diamonds.

Another passing table housed a gaunt, short haired greyhound who sat clenching his hands upon the table surface while nervously tapping his boney heels against the floorboards below. A few more paces down the lane were two hairy sheepdogs seated in lazy forms; a long burning stick made of what Fox could only assume to be some kind of drug was set upon an ashtray between them, a line of smoke twirling up from the glowing tip and into the air like a dancing cobra.

Peppy ahead had stopped at the bar and turned around to look out towards the masses of tables. "I'm going to set up a meeting," he said lightly but loud enough that Fox could understand him. "In the mean time, stay here, have a drink, and don't make it look like it's your first time in a bar."

_I'm not even old enough to drink,_ Fox wanted to answer, but the pathetic sound of it made him feel too much like a sheltered goody-two-shoe schoolboy experiencing anarchy for the first time.

Peppy was about to take a step away, but stopped with a partially dropped jaw when something came back over his mind, and he turned just barely to give Fox a scrutinizing glimpse.

"And don't talk to anyone."

"Right." Fox stood by and continued looking forward for several seconds before giving a glance to where Peppy limped his way towards the backrooms beside the performing stage.

Turning back to the bar, he claimed an open stool, interlocking his fingers at rest above the counter and shifting his eyes down to the glossy wooden shell. In the corner of his eye, he noticed the bartender begin to approach him, a husky Saint Bernard with a gloomy complexion above boring eyes.

"What'll be your poison, kid?" he asked in an extremely deep voice.

"I'm good. Thanks anyway."

The heavy-faced hound seemed to frown which gave Fox the impression he had unknowingly insulted him. He nodded in accord and returned to his other customers leaving him to sit alone and at the mercy of the surrounding public.

The background chatter ranged from all sorts of voices, some hoarse while others spoke their words with a hiss. The countless varieties of characters presently seated about were rich with zest. There were hounds making up most of the drinking patrons while a fellowship of reptiles resembling overgrown geckos made up the band playing over at the stage. Amidst the most eye-catching visuals was a skeleton-like vulture whose ugly face gave off an expression of pure hatred whilst his feathery fingers pinched a black coated pipe beside his crudely shaped beak. Sitting amongst a larger social circle was what struck Fox as the biggest sentient creature he's ever seen: a black bull with horns that curved around his ears and shot up almost a foot above his stone-like face. There were others as well that sparked his interest, from attractive waitresses with short skirts and robust chests to a Dalmatian that appeared too abstract to be real.

Fox tried to remain alert despite he was beginning to feel the effects of fatigue begin to weigh down his eyes. As the seconds ticked away and the sounds around began to grow dull in his ears, the thoughts running through his head were starting to conquer his overall attention. His past life glided through like a film reel showing just a few random instances in the course of his eighteen years. The most appealing memories were of his father, the man he once was before Fox had begun to grow a brain past adolescence. He was every little boy's dream dad, really. A fighter pilot who fought bad guys for a living and wasn't just a hero to the world, but a god to his only child. When it came down to it, Fox was the one who failed as a son. After those days of being a carefree kid were over, that's when whatever grand relationship the two of them had before slowly dwindled into barely anything. Silence was Fox's favored answer to every one of Dad's words. He'd listen and take whatever he said to heart and refuse to forget them, but when it came to _his_ voice, there was nothing. The world revolved around James McCloud and passed over his son like a shadow. The man knew everything there was to know about life and death. Fox was just another clean slate sitting idle in the tool shed, perhaps never to be put to use.

Dying was the last thing Fox suspected his father could suffer. Now that he was gone, his very name threatened to tie a knot in his stomach whenever it was spoken. Losing him was most likely the worst thing that could have ever happened to him, for now all he could feel in his gut was doubt which a day ago was an alien sensation to him.

_How could you leave me behind like this?_

_Who do you think I am? You?_

_How could I ever become _you?

The thought chewed at his conscious causing him to reach up a hand and rub his forehead, his ears lying exhausted upon the back of his head. He closed his eyes and tried desperately not to think of sleep – it only worked so well. But among the ambience of the saloon around him, the sound of a neighboring stool being slid out from his left brought his eyes back open and his attention onto whoever had begun to take a seat beside him. For a moment, he just stared down, until he risked giving a fleeting look to the patron at his left.

He was big, from what little he noticed at first glance, and wore a long dusty green trench coat that likely dropped down to his knees. His fur was mostly a bluish grey with some black, and the huge size of his hands tipped off with claws as black as night spoke of a natural killer. He was tall but not so much he towered over Fox. Most of the fur at his scalp was grown out and pulled back past his canine ears with the bundle behind his neck tied together between a dark braid. From what Fox gained from the side of his face, he was middle aged, a little way under Peppy's years, looking gruff but calm in facial geography.

The shady creature soon casually glanced over to return his look then returned his eyes forward, a slight grin pushing at his lips.

"Stranger to this place?" he suddenly asked, a voice which Fox could have easily mistaken to belong to his father: serene and deceivingly at peace with the violent world around him.

"My first time on Corneria," he answered, flawlessly, disregarding Peppy's previous orders to keep his mouth shut.

The stranger emitted a soft chuckle behind his snout. "I meant _this…"_ His closest paw rose and slightly wove towards the saloon behind. "Not used to the atmosphere here."

"Not really, no." Fox decided to be honest about that part, seeing no harm in it.

"Tends to eat at the nerve, seeing a bunch like this." The shadowy canine gave a sigh through his black nostrils. "Imagining the stories hiding behind every one of their faces, behind every scar. Tends to make you think about your own story."

Fox finally turned his head to look at the stranger directly, who returned the look with another one.

"Makes you remember things. Both the Bad…"

The shadowy canine lifted his closest hand, and then brought up his opposite into Fox's view. Upon the exposed pads making up the bottom of his left paw, there was a painful red scar carved into the blackish skin and made into the jagged shape of a crescent moon.

"… and the Ugly."

Fox watched unblinkingly as the stranger lowered his palms back down and clasped each together with his forearms resting against the counter.

"Know what I'm talking about?" the stranger asked, his voice tranquil and immune to doubt and fear.

"Yeah." Fox gave an uneasy nod, stuck on the stranger's pupils that were surrounded by forest gold irises. "More than I wish."

The corner of the stranger's snout twisted into another grin as he looked forward, nudging his chin up, signaling over the bartender.

"Two splits from the top shelf, Reg." He tapped one black claw onto the counter between them. "Make em creative."

"Sure, Wolf," the bartender immediately came back, his eyes locked on the shadowy canine's gaze, his voice coming through softer past a lazy smirk. "Whatever the master commandeth."

Fox wove his hand in denial. "No, no, I don't—"

"Don't what?" the stranger immediately stopped him, his tone unchanging while he continued to offer a grin at Fox's disposal. Fox soon allowed the words to fade away, closing his lips and placing his hand back down to the counter, keeping his eyes on the stranger's face.

The stranger named "Wolf" gave an easy nod to the bartender before turning back to acknowledge Fox with his almost unreal sense of serenity, nearly to the point where Fox truly believed he was exchanging eye contact with a spirit who was invulnerable to the dangers within the physical world. The bartender to the front had begun mixing a concoction from numerous bottles. Fox had turned his head to watch the process as if he were examining an illusionist whip up a magic trick.

"You seem like the educated kind," Wolf spoke on. "The kind with a purpose. A certain purpose I can only assume goes down a dangerous course."

Fox shrugged his shoulders while opening his mouth to speak.

"Don't answer that," Wolf immediately interrupted and raised his hand to stop him. "Every man here is entitled to secrecy, and I'm not one to swindle any of them out of it." He paused and formed yet another cunning grin. "Unless I'm getting paid."

Fox spared a smirk. He wasn't entirely sure about the situation he was in, whether or not he was really in any danger this very second. Wolf appeared more or less a threat in his eyes. His character spoke of cleverness and wisdom covered below a dicey, manipulative exterior. Fox wasn't stupid and he knew he couldn't trust a man whom he just met. But the simplest fact of it all remained… he liked Wolf.

"Tell me," Wolf began to ask another question. "Have you ever wondered if any of it could've happened any differently? The course of your life so far?"

"There's always the possibility," Fox answered, freely.

"True." Wolf had reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a blank paper container. Reaching into its pouch, he pulled free a hand-rolled cigarette and stuck it between his lips at the front of his snout. "Since life is in no way related to—let's say—a moon orbiting a planet," he continued to speak while fumbling for a light. "There's no such thing as a direct path leading to whatever fate awaits you, or some cycle where fate constantly eludes you. There's always the possibility of life suddenly changing its course."

Fox watched as he brought a match to the cigarette's tip and drew in a breath and released a short stream of smoke past his wet nostrils. "I know what you mean," he finally answered.

Wolf tossed the match to the floor and brought the stick down from his lips and exhaled some more smoke. Turning his eyes back to Fox, he offered the cigarette, which Fox instinctively denied.

"Makes you wonder whether or not there really is such a thing as a universal agenda," Wolf continued before breaking for another draw. "Fate, destiny… that sort of thing."

Fox quietly contemplated his words while watching the bartender perform the finishing touches on a regular masterpiece.

"You believe in such a thing?" Wolf came through again, forcing him to break his silence.

"It's all about actions, choices." Fox felt his eyes drift from the bar down to the counter. "Every choice holds consequences, but you learn more each time with every mistake you make."

Wolf this time remained silent, resting his head against his knuckles, watching the counter space separating him and Fox.

Behind the counter, the bartender had finished his small project and offered both Fox and Wolf a filled shot glass. Down below, Fox watched the greenish liquid fizz like its special ingredient was secretly toxic waste. He glanced over to Wolf's share and then to the bartender. The hound's droopy eyes blinked and gave a quick look over to Wolf before he turned to take his leave. The very suspicious nature of his posture ignited a spark inside Fox's head, and his lips cringed at the possibility of a dangerous scheme rising up to take his life.

To his left, he heard Wolf laugh. "Clever wit," the man spoke while reaching forward to claim Fox's glass, his lips grinning. He raised his free hand that brandished the crescent shaped scar and lifted the back of the claws of his four fingers, folding his thumb towards his palm while pressing the closest claw against his adjacent brow in the form of an easy salute. "Survival: the game that never ends."

Fox watched as Wolf drained the shot in one gulp and sat the empty glass down with a _ching._ "Some mistakes can cost more than others," said Fox while he examined a small mist arise from the empty glass.

Wolf brushed his wrist across the side of his snout while taking a breath, amazingly still conscious from the noxious drink. "Learn from your mistakes," he spoke in a sigh. "But what about the mistakes of others?"

His words caused Fox to look up from the empty shot glass, and he saw Wolf giving him another ghostlike stare, the yellow of his eyes appearing to possess the power to look past his skin and glimpse into the very depths of his conscious.

"Fox," a voice spoke through the air and landed directly in his ears. He turned around to find Peppy standing several paces away from the bar, one hand resting in his coat pocket while his disappointed face gave off the silent fatherly message, _"It's time to go"._

Fox turned back to Wolf who continued to sit dormant. His dark face gave a nod of contempt, as if thanking him for the discussion. Rising up from his stool he moved over to Peppy who, instead of shooting _him_ a look of anger, was staring over to where Wolf sat watching their leave with a relaxing silence flowing around him like an aura. As soon as he reached his side, Peppy broke his stare and began leading the way through the courses of tables towards the back rooms.

"I'm sorry," Fox apologized once they were halfway to the doorway at the left of the performing stage. "He sat right next to me and started talking. I didn't have a choice."

"It's not your fault." To Fox's relief, Peppy sounded more understanding than furious. "You've got to be careful around guys like him."

* * *

Wolf continued to stare into the crowd and depict the fox and the hare make their way past the lines and straight into the backrooms. He took in a steady draw from his cigarette, his wraithlike eyes tracking the duo until they disappeared behind the curtained doorways.

Reaching over to claim the second glass of fizzing liquor, he downed the shot, just as someone new approached him from a nearby table, following a stench which led Wolf to raise his cigarette close to his sensitive nose, trying to block out the smell with burning tobacco.

"Shouldn't you be sitting in the corner like the dirty little pig you are?" Wolf spoke to the newcomer.

The hog approached him with a fat, pinkish face smothered in sweat and a near uncontainable anger. He breathed constantly through his flabby lips while his brow dug violently into his eyes, darkened in shadow.

"What?" Wolf asked in a deeper tone, growing annoyed by the stink flowing from the swine's breath.

"They're supposed to be dead," Pigma spoke in his naturally hostile voice. _"Dead. _The report said dead!That means Pepper's gotta be covering for them up at the Collar."

"Well, now we know the accident was staged." Wolf took another casual draw of the cigarette. "Now go annoy one of the harlots or do the public a favor by taking a bath."

"I was guaranteed protection from these assholes." Pigma took a heavy step forward, to Wolf's displeasure. "I was _guaranteed _that James McCloud and Peppy Hare would be _both_ dead. And what does that monkey do? He kills one and lets the other go! _For what?"_

"That's very unfortunate that your deal with him didn't go according to plan." Wolf spewed smoke through his nostrils, his eyes ignoring Pigma's presence. "But then again, that's none of my concern."

Pigma immediately slammed his fist down onto the counter to the left of Wolf, drawing several eyes from patrons nearby.

"You and I had a deal, too!" Pigma hissed in a hushed tone, still wary of the public eye. "If either McCloud or Hare survived, you would help me finish the job, as well as do in James's brat. _That_ was our deal!"

"You have five seconds to take a step back before I roast your dead carcass over a fire." Wolf's voice remained at the same volume, but the darkness in his yellow eyes was beginning to fume with a growing wrath.

Pigma lifted his fat fist from the counter and backed away, as ordered, resentment still flowing from his portly features.

"Now take a deep breath…" Wolf took a long drag from his cigarette, "… and relax."

"You could've ended it right there," Pigma continued, desperation now eating away his features as he watched Wolf disperse a stream of smoke. "James's brat was _right there_ and you didn't even use the cyanide?"

"Foxes know better than to fall for the classics," Wolf explained while letting his burned down cigarette slip from his fingers and erupt a miniature spark shower on the floorboards below.

"Then just a put a gun to the back of his head and pull the trigger. Simple as that! And you didn't even try to kill him."

"I like to get to know my prey better before I start a hunt." Slowly, a wide grin overtook his black snout while he sucked in a large packet of air through his nose. "Helps the story play out all the better."

Pigma didn't look the least convinced and glanced continuously towards the backrooms.

"Get back to the ship and have her ready for castoff." Wolf took a stand from his stool and pressed a finger against his left ear. "Leon, you're still on shadow duty. Updates every half hour until they make a move."

_"__Yes, boss,"_ a hoarse voice hissed into the radio frequency.

Wolf began to leave for the stairway as Pigma closed in on his tail. Upon taking their exit, the hog carried on in glancing back at their trail, as well towards the location of their apparent "targets".

To the front, Wolf possessed not a flicker of worry unlike the paranoid bacon strip to his rear. It was as simple as a game for them now. A game by _his_ rules. Two misled bounties currently under the impression they were the hunters when in reality _they_ were the game. It was all to Wolf's dark sense of pleasure through his forte in trickery.

Deception was an art in Wolf's world.

* * *

The eyes of the wolf continued to hang in his mind, as if somebody inside Fox's head had nailed a picture of those unearthly yellow irises at the base of his eyeballs.

He wasn't sure what to make of him. His words came through so accurately and on the spot it was almost as if he possessed some sort of telepathic power. Fox was never one for the supernatural and when it came down to it, logic was infinite, something that could be incorporated into even the unexplainable. But even that was beginning to sound false in his mind. It was obvious Wolf knew something, perhaps even knew who he was and exactly what he lost, or was the mysterious canine just simply extremely adept to reading people?

For now, it didn't matter to him. Peppy had a plan and his only bet in seeing the coming days was to follow the hare's lead and hope this stream of luck would hang around long enough for him to get the job done and come out in one piece.

"When we see this guy," Peppy spoke up when they stopped before a particular door to the right among eight others standing along the skinny hallway, "listen to what he has to say and be polite. Gonzo may be a rat, but he's helped us before when things got over-hairy and we at least owe him our manners."

"What's this guy do, anyways?" Fox asked, curious of the actual purpose.

"He's an ex-information broker who survived long enough to retire. A few years back he started up a temporary protection gig where he helped anybody with big enough pockets and enough desperation to relocate to other parts of the system. Something like an underground railroad for witness protection."

"So he erased identities."

"Something like that. The system he used was pure genius, but some time ago, he closed it down. My guess he was getting too many death threats from ticked-off bounty hunters who couldn't beat past his formula to find their targets. He still holds on to his personal records, and if I'm right, the guy we're looking for was one of his final clients."

Fox looked back to the door, which like the others was chipped at the edges and worn down all over, appearing as if it was originally built back when Calidame was a feudal castle sitting at the center of a small village of peasants. "So should I let you do all the talking?"

"If you want, but Gonzo will probably want to speak to you directly. If there's one person left in this galaxy he trusts, it's you. He owed his life to James before and should be more than willing to help his son find the killer in question."

Fox gave a nod. "Alright, let's do this."

Peppy raised his paw and knocked on the door. For a moment, there was not a sound escaping past the edges of the frame. So Peppy raised his paw again, and rather than knock politely, he pounded the side of his fist causing the entire door to rattle.

_"__WHAT?"_ a voice suddenly acknowledged the knock from inside.

"Gonzo, open the door. It's Peppy."

_"__Alright, alright, alright…"_ the voice came through lazily and carefree. Following the reply, the rusty knob below had begun to twist until the door swung inwards and opened into a small sanctuary the size of a big closet, just large enough to house two dusty couches, a half-burnt rectangular coffee table in between, and what appeared to be some ancient, beaten down device resembling one of the ovular pictoscreens used in the upper city for news, sports, and entertainment broadcasts.

Upon opening the door, two slender rabbits wearing skanky skirts and velvety blouses came walking out, their fingers adjusting their spaghetti straps.

"Sorry, honey-bunnies. _I know… I know…"_ The lazy voice from before came through smooth and apparently under the influence of some kind of manipulative substance. _"Ta-tah. Take care. Get out, please. GET OUT!"_

Fox and Peppy stepped back allowing the rabbits to take their leave. They giggled under their lips while purposefully brushing their hips against Fox's side, the very gesture sending a boyish shiver up his spine. Peppy stepped on through into the room, nudging Fox's shoulder when he caught him staring back to the departing twosome. Inside, the room was hazy with the smell of something Fox was unfamiliar with. The walls were layered with the same dark wood that made up the saloon outside and were decorated all over with hand sewn wooly quilts depicting abstract otherworldly landscapes, random ornaments made of leather and string resembling dream catchers, wooden masks designed in an alien tribal manner, and a bundle of voodoo-related collectibles hanging from the ceiling, all floating within candle light.

Down below upon the sofa opposite of the door was what Fox took to be an overgrown, ashy grey sewer rat. He sat slumped upon the sunken cushions in a dazed appearance wearing something of a bedraggled brown poncho which covered his entire boney physique. Covering his ears and scalp was a maroon floppy cap similar to a straw basket, the brim circling below his brow and just stopping at the borders of his blackish eyes. But among the creature what left Fox awestruck were the dozens of piercings decorating his face, from twin studs that stabbed through the space between his eyes to several silvery rings lined across his whiskery snout leading up to where a golden upside-down loop intersected between his nostrils. There was no telling how old this supersized rodent was, but from his very lazy appearance alone, Fox assumed not too much. The crusty, old figure of his face must've been brought on from years of careless living and lack of hygiene.

When Fox had closed the door behind, Gonzo's near lifeless corpse suddenly sprung up to consciousness with a spasm through his limbs. He looked up rapidly, as if awaking from a micro nap, and very soon, surprise had begun to meld into his limp features.

"Brother Hare," he spoke in a blazed voice rasp in a way some could think he'd been breathing in fumes his entire life. "My ally from beyond the grave. How's death been treating ya thus far, my man?"

"Better than if we were alive, I suppose." Peppy stepped farther to the left to give Fox more space. "We can only hope there's not a death-after-death waiting for us out there."

The rat's decorated nostrils flared as his lips twisted into a lethargic smile, his scrawny body rocking slightly back and forth while he sniggered. "Psychedelic, bro. Truly _awe-_inspiring for an imprisoned creature like myself who's wanted to try out dead for a long_… long_ time."

Fox could only imagine what _psychedelic _things this junky must've done to make himself so… "far-out".

"How is life, Gonzo?" Peppy continued to play it friendly.

"Indescribably long." The rat took an unsteady stand and erupted a jingle fest beneath his poncho which pointed out there were plenty more body jewelry hiding from plain sight. He reached with both arms over the coffee table to shake Peppy's paw with both of his own. "But still righteous, brother."

Peppy nudged his head over towards his right where Fox stood like a complete stranger. "Recognize him?"

"Do I _ever!"_ Gonzo immediately left Peppy's paws and shifted his entire attention on Fox, reaching out to passionately shake his. "I haven't seen this pup in the fur since he was stuck in a burrow!"

Fox shifted in his stance when the rat came around with a heavy pat on his shoulder.

"All grown up!" Gonzo finally stood back while clasping his palms together, a large of assortment of shiny rings covering his skinny fingers. "Righteous. _Truly_ righteous."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Fox had already made a promise in his head he'd keep his word by playing this out with manners, taking Peppy's instructions straight to heart. "Again, that is," he quickly added.

_"__Nah,_ pleasure's all mine, Mr. McCloud. Pleasure is _all_ mine. _Please!"_ He wove his sparkling fingers to the second couch adjacent to the door.

Fox and Peppy claimed the seat, Peppy grunting under his lip when he bent his braced leg by mistake. Across the table before them was a litter of bottles and a half filled glass sitting beside a crystal ashtray supporting a long, straw-like burning wooden stick that reminded Fox of the same drug being used by several of the saloon patrons outside. The smell of it strangely reminded him of strawberries.

Gonzo had managed to side step back towards his seat and plummet down onto his buttocks, but suddenly recoiled as if something had clipped off a piece of his wormlike tail. He cursed below his raspy breath while reaching down and pulling out what Fox immediately took to be a black coated pistol. He carelessly tossed it over towards the left by a wrinkly pile of women's underwear.

"Collectibles," Gonzo quickly explained after noticing Fox's awkward stare towards the direction of the clothes. He slumped again into his seat making his exceptionally emaciated body appear almost skeletal beneath the cover of his poncho. _"Yeah,_ sorry about that little misunderstanding, Pep. If I knew it was you, I'd of kept around those two little bunnies to keep your lap warm."

"I appreciate it, Gonzo." Peppy's civility seemed dominant and everlasting in Fox's eyes, even among such a go-happy garbage licker.

The rat's arm extended out as he briefly bent forward to pinch a grip around the burning straw. Using his other paw, he broke off an inch of the unlit end before bringing it up to his snout and taking a draw, the smoke soon taking its escape through the bowls of his nostrils and across the metal loop clasped between.

"So what can this humble wizard do for _thee,_ oh _Peppy?"_ Gonzo's eyes shifted from the hare to the fox. "I have a guess, but I'll spare the disappointment and hear you out instead."

"We need a guy."

"I got guys and gals. Take your pick."

"Tech junky." Peppy had reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small card-shaped PDA which he slid over the surface of the table, past the empty bottles to Gonzo's end. "You helped him disappear two years ago."

"I've got junkies of all kinds and plenty of techies. Let's see which one's the prime suspect…"

Gonzo reached down, groaning as he bent his stiff back forward, and fumbled his long, boney fingers at the PDA. A few seconds of clicks and he suddenly broke into an enlightened chuckle.

"Yeah-yeah, I keep this one extra close to my heart." He patted his palm over his flat chest. "Everybody coming in and asking the same-same request over and over again. Every one of em looking to find the guy who found a way to perfect G-diffusion with lower power consumption. All of em looking to finding him coming to _mwah_ for the answers…" Gonzo turned over to gain a glimpse at Fox, his lazy smile suddenly twisting into the first grin he's ever seen him make. "Being I'm the magician who made him disappear in the first place."

"Pretty righteous work wiping his face from every record in confederation space," said Peppy. "Almost every record."

"Righteous indeed, brother."

"So you got a name for us?"

Gonzo sat further back into his couch while looking between Peppy and Fox, as if he was inclined to both listen to Peppy but was being drawn to Fox's face.

"Guess I can spare as much," said Gonzo in easy compliance. "If I remember right he wanted something average for a surname, not too creative, and when it came to the first, he went along with what he said his mother used to call him. Turned out pretty damn pathetic, really: _Slippy Toad. _A regular master title of false impressions."

Hearing the name caused Fox's jaw to nearly drop down in stupid amazement.

"A toad," he said, dully, still not believing that had been the rat's answer. "Slippy the toad."

"Yeah, the simplicity of this universe is absolute genius." Gonzo had reached down to reclaim his pipe-like smoking stick. _"Toad_ the toad. _Hare_ the hare. _Fox_ the fox…"

Fox turned to Peppy and began drooling disbelief through his parted lips. "You mean to tell me the reason we came back here was to pick up a scoop on a damn frog?"

"You shouldn't diss our loveable, amphibious brothers who come from a magical place so far-far away," Gonzo spoke with smoke sputtering past his crooked teeth with each flicker of his tongue. "And I think _Slippy_'s a righteous name, truly. Speaks of what challenges he's had to face growing up. I couldn't imagine walking around on slippery feet minute after minute, hour after hour, day after _day…"_

Peppy slowly leaned forward from his seat and rested his elbows against his knees. "You have his record on you?"

"I keep it close to my heart."

Peppy returned his words with reaching into his pocket a second time and setting onto the table a blue crystal crest Fox recognized to be one of the two pieces Peppy had taken from the Arwing's lasers back at the Steel Collar.

"Sapphirian alloy," Peppy explained while pushing the offer further across the table, closer into Gonzo's gaze. "Artifact like that can find a heavy price in the black market."

Gonzo's expression hadn't changed from its usual burned-out daze, but his silence alone was enough evidence that the offer was more than appealing to his sense of greed. Eventually lifting up his hand, he reached under the left sleeve of his poncho and soon pulled free what appeared to be a miniature rectangle resembling a flash drive. Bringing Peppy's PDA up to view, he plugged the disk into one of the side ports and seconds later, after a green light flickered from the screen, he pulled the disk free and offered Peppy back the PDA.

"He's in Meteo," the rat explained. "Works as a mechanic in one of the shipping yards on the outer fields. Coordinates and the subsector of the station are programmed in. He's all yours."

Peppy pocketed the PDA as Gonzo had picked up the blue crest and began to examine it.

"Now what about Pigma Dengar?" Peppy asked, directing his eyes in a grimmer stare to where Gonzo admired his new possession like a magical trinket.

"Why? Did he run off for a mud bath and you lost smell of him?" Gonzo directed his eyes up from the crest and shook his head over towards Fox. "The guy _never _bathes. I swear, even _I_ thought the smell was wretched _beyond _wretched. And believe me—I'd smelled some righteous things before I smelled him, but the stench that comes off of that little piggy—"

"Gonzo," Peppy repeated with a voice going well with his scrutinizing eyes.

"I'm just going off of business ethics, brother. I have a price."

"You also have a debt."

Gonzo redirected his attention back to Fox. "He never was much of a decent hog. I mean, _you've_ seen him, too, yeah? Remember that ugly dent he's got on the side of his head? Must've knocked the word 'clean' right out of his…"

There was a thud at the coffee table right before Peppy's knees, causing Gonzo to stop. Both he and Fox looked over to what was beneath the hare's nimble fingers, and Fox blinked in shock at the sight of a silver coated pistol, the square-figured barrel directed towards Gonzo's slouch. Fox only assumed Peppy somehow kept it hidden from the bouncers at the saloon's entrance, or else maybe he swiped it off of one of the guards during his first visit to the backrooms.

_"__Fine, fine…" _Gonzo remained calm, unafraid but compliant to Peppy's gesture. "Yes, I know about the deal."

"And I'm sure you understand well that I nearly died because of that deal." Peppy continued to rest his fingers on top the gun handle and stare forward with an unblinking glare. "My best friend—_his_ father." He gave a fleeting look to Fox at his side. "The same guy you owed a life debt to. Dead from the same deal."

_"__Please…"_ Gonzo raised his hands, innocuously. "I'd be a coldblooded fool to think James being gone meant my dues would be forgotten. I know these sorts of things live on past the grave." Gonzo remained still on his seat. His eyes blinked wide open and his lips parted as if he were carefully choosing his next words with care, until shifting his muscles forward to bend his back and rescue himself from a doubting silence. "I don't know where the porker is, alright? This is strictly past the business at hand, brother. That sorta territory don't fit around my waste too well anymore."

"You're lying," Fox immediately came out while staring deeply into Gonzo's eyes in the same supernatural sense Wolf had shown him before. "I can see it in your eyes."

"My eyes say a lot of things, youngling."

"Then what do they say about Andross being alive?"

"Fox," Peppy quickly intervened, but Fox ignored him.

"Black ops contract," Fox continued his assault. "Assassination. That's what the team was sent out to do before Pigma led them over a bear trap. How do you know about any deal that went down on the outside? You'd have to have contacts working for Andross to know about any of this. And who's to say Pigma hasn't already come to see you? Who's to say you're not protecting him right now?"

The rat returned with silence as his face drew forth a stronger sense of fatigue while forcing his eyes to remain open on Fox, his breaths coming through steady like waves on a beach.

"How do you know about Andross being alive?" Fox lowered his tone, knowing already he had hit the surface of a treasure chest with the edges of his spade. "How do you know about the deal that got my father killed?"

"If I was military, I'd go on and give you the _'It's classified'_ chestnut," Gonzo answered after a deep breath. "But being I'm just a back alley scoundrel who likes good living and hates taking orders from the Man, I'll simply just say it's none of your business." He re-extended his arms to the side like a preacher praising the Almighty. "Don't get me wrong, brother. No offense intended – just preserving the righteous flow of the enterprise, you know?"

"Yeah." Fox took a stand from the couch continuing to glare with an ethereal gaze, Peppy soon following with his pistol in hand. "Totally righteous."

"But I will give you a tip, on the house – consider it a fraction of my debt up front." Gonzo's voice came quick, aware this meeting was ready to be closed. He bent forward again to rest his elbows against his thigh bones as he gave the most "lively" posture he could manage past his brittle form. "It's best to keep an eye on every shadow and a finger resting on that trigger, cus I'll tell you now I _don't_ know the full force of what you'll be going up against." He stared at Fox in particular, serious faced, not sparing a moment to blink his dry eyes. "That's an old friendship speaking on a sensitive level."

* * *

The soggy air drowned both of their lungs once they stomped past the open entrance of the saloon and took to the market circle, digging into the crowds, refusing to slow their domineering pace. Fox could already feel Peppy's staring gaze, most likely with grim decorating his face in the same way Gonzo decorated himself in silver and gold.

"You said if I wanted to talk I could talk," Fox took the first strike opportunity. "The guy's a liar, Pep. It was written all over him. He knows something he's not telling us, and I'd bet everything that Pigma's already met with him."

"That's just the nature of this line of work." Peppy kept pace, ignoring the obvious discomfort erupting beneath his leg brace and all the other wounds branding his hide. "Being one step behind. There'll always be deception, betrayal, transgression, the whole dirty nine yards. People you think you trust can suddenly come around with a knife at your throat, along with a better deal in their hands than the one you're giving them. You just gotta trust your instincts and keep your real friends close to your flanks. Just remember, the smartest pilot is the one who keeps a wingman close on hand. In case his plan fails, he still has backup."

Fox took his words with silence, feeling his nerve begin to settle and his mind become partially free from the stress infecting his brainwaves.

"Why else do you think I brought you in there with me?" Peppy suddenly nudged his shoulder, a grin arising from the depths of his usually languid lips.

"Sorry, old man. Wasn't aware that _I_ was the wingman."

"Don't get cocky, sonny."

Fox wanted to laugh, ironically given the dreary atmosphere and his past disturbing experiences in the saloon. There was a flicker of happiness rising from his face, but as seconds ticked away and suddenly the steps seemed to grow slower, soon nonexistent in his mind, a spark ignited itself in the back of his head like a lighthouse beaming across a sea of black water. The sensation reminded him of the missile that flew past the transporter while he and Peppy fled the Steel Collar – time slowing down, as it seemed, giving him enough of a chance to recognize the instinct to be that of a flashing danger-danger warning.

That danger was arising from his back like an approaching shadow. He was being followed. He knew he was, but wasn't exactly sure _how_ he knew. This murky presence taking form behind him was causing his skin to itch and turn numb with an imaginary chill. Stopping his walk alongside Peppy, he slowly turned to view the rear where the saloon lied dormant along with all the other crude foundations making up the lower city. The traffic of pedestrians was looser for a split moment, just in time to give him a glimpse straight into the black form of a shrouded figure. It wore a black hood over its nonexistent head and appeared more like a member of a dark cult rather than just another factory worker. But its lacking in identity soon gave way for a flicker of steel to arise from the inside of its loose sleeve, a hand reaching in to claim the source.

Peppy to his side had stopped upon noticing his frozen, prolonged stare. The moment he took in the spectacle of the figure in black, his body jumped into action, just as the figure had pulled out the crude form of a long, stocky-built pistol from its sleeve and pointed it forward to where Fox stood with glazed eyes. Supposedly yelling his name, which Fox couldn't hear past a ring vibrating his eardrums, the hare lunged forward providing Fox with cover from the immanent blast, using his own body as a shield.

The blast came through and awoke Fox from his stupor, all the while Peppy remained standing on two feet, breathing aloud at a strained pace. The black figure to the front had suddenly dropped its pistol hand down to rest at its side. Its legs soon broke down and brought its knee caps hard onto the crusty pavement below, its hooded head following forward with the rest of its instantly dead body. At the center of its shoulder blades was a burning hole large enough to accommodate a golf ball, the leather material of his coat surrounding the miniature crater fizzing from extreme heat.

Immediately, the crowds of the market dispersed across the circle with several women screaming, everyone aware that shadowy death must've followed the sudden gunfire. Peppy to Fox's front slowly loosened his stance and stepped forward from Fox over to where the possible assassin now lied suddenly _assassinated,_ soon quickening into a limping jog. When he arrived, he crouched down and pushed the corpse over to reveal an ugly yellow beak sprout from the blackness of the hood, accompanying a hideously wrinkled complexion of a vulture.

_I know this guy_, the thought echoed in Fox's mind. He'd seen him sitting within the saloon around the time he first arrived to the lower level.

Down below, Peppy had ripped the hood from the bird's scalp and pulled it down enough to reveal the side of the creature's ragged neck. Upon it was a branded **V** giving birth to a design of batwings sprouting at its flanks. It was Venom's mark, Fox recognized, the heraldic insignia worn by Andross's legions of slaves.

Peppy had risen back to his feet, cursing below his breath before scanning the rooftops surrounding the circle for any sign of the shooter. For a short moment, he stopped upon crossing what appeared to be a lump of bricks at the peak of an abandoned apartment complex. He stared long at the shape, but nothing about it appeared lethal and in any way the shape of a possible sniper.

"We have to get off this planet," the hare spoke while turning around to begin a fast paced walk to Fox, ignoring the panicking masses fleeing about like roaches on the fritz. "We'll use the immigration shuttles. Flying on our own is too dangerous while someone out there is tracking us."

"Or playing with us," Fox suggested while staring at Peppy. His mind was still partially being held a hostage by the stupor that took him when the assassin tried to blow a hole through his heart. "Two shooters."

"Two shooters of different parties who unfortunately shared the same target." Peppy glared straight into his eyes giving Fox the cold figure of his claim. "The second one's still watching us, and whoever he is, he doesn't want us dead yet. We have to get moving."

* * *

The crowd was dispersing like a school of fish avoiding a shark, too frightened to look around, though not stupid enough to hold their ground and put their own lives at risk.

The hare had already begun to lead the fox into the thick of it, trying their best to meld with the locals, but from a high vantage point they were just barely distinguishable. Not long, however, they would disappear and the lone tracker would have to relocate in order to follow their progress.

_"__Leon, what's the situation?" _the boss's voice came through the radio frequency.

Upon the rooftop of an abandoned apartment complex, an inconspicuous figure sat dormant. At first just appearing to be just another piece of the architecture, perhaps an old chimney, two beady black dots in the form of eyes shifted in order to adjust focus.

"One confirmed shot," the hidden sniper answered. "Targets are still on the move."

_"__You still haven't been compromised?"_

"I can only guess not."

_ "__Copy that. Good work on that scope."_

"I never did much like birds." The sniper began to fold his collapsible rifle into a carrying size small enough to hide the weapon beneath a coat, all the while one of his bi-directional eyes kept watch on the fox and the hare.

_"__They'll be sure to look for public transportation," _the boss came through with his natural lack of worry._ "Keep your beacon active and don't lose them. We'll bring up the rear with the ship."_

"Understood."

Finally, the skin upon the sniper took to its natural form. The scales decorating his face switched from a blackish brown camouflage to a lime green, the withered features of an age-abundant reptile giving off a naturally cagey complexion. He took a stand upon his feet, letting his long black jacket brush the ground to his back with each silent step.

"One other thing," he spoke into his ear mike while jumping his way across a short gap onto a neighboring roof. "The assassin – it wasn't just another random piece of gutter scum. It had a Nightwing on its neck. First Battalion, one of Venom's regular action heroes."

_"__Then the ape chose hubris over logic," _the boss responded. _"More guns pointed on the primary target. Obviously we're taking too much time for his liking."_

"Impatience tends to transform into desperation very quickly."

_"__After what the first fox did to the monkey's reputation, it's hard to blame him."_

The reptile leapt over another ledge and glided across the air like a snake pouncing forward into prey, landing silently upon the next rooftop. "It's not that I don't understand the predicament of allowing McCloud's son to operate under the direction of an old hand like Hare, but the fact remains that he's just a—"

_"__Don't underestimate him,"_ the boss quickly exclaimed. _"Genetics one-o-one: the best parts of the father usually pass on to the son. Give him enough time and freedom to operate untouched, sooner or later he'll unlock an even bigger predicament."_

The chameleon stopped at the edge of the next roof and peered across the ghetto into the crowd, following the steady progress of the objectives. "Then perhaps our traditional lack of direct action isn't necessarily the best sequence on this particular stage," he said while holstering his collapsible rifle into a leg harness hidden behind his coat flap.

There was a momentary pause in the frequency which allowed the echoes of Calidame to regain a piece of the chameleon's attention, but not so much he stopped listening for a response, or shifted his gaze away from the fox and the hare moving around the mob upon the boulevards below.

_"__For now," _the boss finally returned, _"we'll stay the course and follow to where the chain leads."_

"Not all chains are unbreakable."

_"__I know."_ The boss gave a sigh which spoke for a slight measure of uncertainty, which fairly surprised the chameleon despite he and the boss knew one another well enough to the point they could well have been branded as brothers. But the wolf never did express any signs of doubt and if there was one thing in his character that was finite, it was his inability to feel "surprised". And at this particular moment, he could barely imagine why the old hunter suddenly began to feel the unfamiliar sensation soften his cold resolve.

"The game we once knew is changing, old friend," the chameleon spoke along with a sigh of his own.

_"__The game is still the same," _the boss's response was solemn and darkly optimistic. _"Only the players are different."_

* * *

The humming engines at the stern of the ship vibrated softly at his back, the very sensation reminding Fox of a relaxing massage. He watched the stars past the window with dim eyes, trying to evade sleep, per his agreement with Peppy.

The eighth hour of flight was just coming to pass. The hare slept like a rock upon the neighboring seat across the aisle while Fox "stood guard", so to speak. The interstellar shuttle was only at half capacity, but the abundance of passengers was enough to refuse any assassin of an easy kill. Fox purposefully refused to quench his growing thirst knowing a future bathroom break would give the would-be killer (who was undoubtedly somebody on this ship) a golden opportunity to slip in and put a knife in his back.

It was no longer a mystery whether or not Pepper's plan for staging both of their deaths had succeeded. While the free world was well under the impression that the McCloud bloodline had reached an untimely end and the remainder of the infamous Star Fox team had disbanded and gone into hiding, the enemy, unfortunately, was now well aware of the actual truth.

Just like his ancestors had endured several thousands of years ago, Fox was now a solitary hunter of the wild living under the constant presence of death's blade. But at least fate had spared him a dedicated comrade like Peppy.

When it came to mysteries, in the beginning, he wasn't entirely sure where Peppy's priorities lied concerning the hunt for Pigma. Fox's safety was important to the hare to begin with—Fox was well aware of that—but what wasn't entirely evident was the man's actual level of concern. What was more important to him? Killing Pigma or watching after Fox?

Fox would never forget the risk the hare put forth when death was suddenly just a trigger pressure away from taking his short lived life. Peppy expressed openly that his own life mattered less.

The lights of the compartment were dimmed low for passenger comfort, but the growth of shadows was only making Fox feel more inclined to remain awake. He'd already developed a couple of attack scenarios in his head, just in case the assassin decided to rise from his hiding spot and take a daring chance. Peppy's pistol was tucked in the hare's pocket upon the side facing him, so that would be his first option. Another would be to go for the removable cushion beneath his chair. It may have not been so weapon-worthy but the heavy thickness of the material could provide ample enough protection from a laser emitted projectile. A final alternative would be to run for the front of passenger compartment and pull the emergency hatch open then try and break through into the cockpit and wait for everybody behind, the attacker included, to be sucked out into space. But what if the assassin came around from the rear and brought a knife to his neck? His only chance would be for the killer to go into some cliché-engrossed monologue before cutting open his throat, giving Fox enough time to devise his last-minute retaliation.

The sudden sound of ruffling brought his eyes from the window over to where Peppy appeared to be awakening from his deep sleep. The hare's eyes squinted past the golden illumination pouring down from above by a lone light keeping the total darkness at bay.

"Feeling any better?" Fox dared to ask, even though the hare's grumpy appearance spoke well for itself.

Peppy took in a breath as his face muscles squished together to form wrinkles along his brow and cheeks.

_"__Worse,"_ he managed to speak through a grumble. He began to reach into his pocket which held the pistol, groaning as he started to reactivate his stiff muscles. Pulling out the familiar shape of his PDA, he let out a grunt of disapproval.

"You need it more than I do," Fox explained, already aware he was checking the solar time. "That leg isn't gonna heal without rest."

Peppy pocketed the PDA and sat back while rubbing a hand on top his bad leg's thigh, attempting to loosen up the blood flow in the numbed areas below. "I'm not as old as you think," he said, sounding deceivingly relaxed.

"If you say so, but when it comes to burns and busted bones, you're not immortal."

Peppy's eyes began to squint again as a smile suddenly begun to rise and form dimples behind his long whiskers.

"Do you know what it's like being immortal, Fox?" he began through his tired smile. "It's like you're a comet revolving around the sun, a shooting star that never dies and continues to go on and on and on… Nothing can stop you. You just live on until the days begin to fade into years, and soon you find yourself repeating the years like a comet passing the same planets again and again."

Fox watched as Peppy shifted in his seat to lean towards the aisle at his left, at first watching the aisle beneath them while supporting himself up with his elbow against the armrest.

"Your father and I knew what that felt like." He brought his eyes up and looked to Fox with an easy gaze. "It wasn't something we expected to find, being what we were, guns-for-hire and all. But somehow we outlasted the competition and the occupation we once thought we represented soon began to change into something new—something remarkable—the last thing we ever expected to be.

"We became symbols of a new age, an Eden of light in the darkest of days. We didn't just give the people hope when evil was on the verge of conquering their spirits. We gave them triumph over it. We were celebrities in their eyes, killers of the demons who once held their lives in unbreakable strangleholds. We flew above like angels in the sky, and the reality that once surrounded us no longer existed. Money was a worry of the past and they would pay us rivers of it to stay our course and keep fighting. There was no end to any of it. The course was never-ending and the fame was everlasting, and before we knew it, we realized that time was repeating itself. The world had remained the same along with the game, but as legends rose up and challengers continued to fall, our lives began to gray out and space had suddenly become a much smaller place."

Fox was no longer thinking of the possibilities of another assassination attempt. Instead, he was involuntarily focused on Peppy, his words capturing his conscious and giving birth to a childlike fascination, the same sort of curiosity that he felt and showed as a pup listening in on Dad's old bedtime stories.

"You know the thing about surviving through everything," Peppy continued, "soon you'll find that everything else outside the job is inconsistent. Relationships are meant to die and symbols will eventually crumble. The people you love and trust will eventually wither away, sometimes all of the sudden or along a stretch of time. It's easy to lose yourself to where nothing else matters but the job, just as easy as confusing retirement with an untimely death. Whatever life you possessed outside becomes obsolete, pointless to live through, and if you stand alone long enough and don't treat yourself with the utmost care you'll die a stranger to the word 'family'. "

Fox blinked at his final word, suddenly feeling even more skeptical of Peppy's point. "Why are you telling me this?"

Peppy blinked back and soon lowered his chin and lifted his elbow up from the armrest, sitting back into his seat for a more comfortable pose.

"James was a better father to the world than he was to his son," he answered after exhaling through his nostrils. "Just thought you should know."

Fox sat back as well, keeping his eyes on Peppy while releasing the tension in his back and setting his head back to rest at the cushion. Peppy continued to silently stare ahead, no longer appearing tired. Withered, perhaps, but not so much he needed more sleep. Fox eventually turned his head back towards the window, the stars poke-a-dotting the darkness like celestial diamonds, immortal in the sense that they appeared to be able to outlast the coming days without struggle or compromise.

_Immortal_

The term flew through his mind like a glowing phoenix, bringing light to the dark past and commemorating the days ahead with a brighter perspective.

_Immortal_

While he took in the endless distance of space, Fox felt his eyes softly close and the thoughts of rest bring forth a deep, dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 6

**6 -**

The titanic rocks of the asteroid belt drifted far in the distance like a mass of moons, floating along together within an invisible channel. The very spectacle could remind a person of an old aftermath of a terrestrial sphere suffering its very own Armageddon, being reduced to thousands of crusty shards and adding onto a colossal graveyard of planets.

Meteo was Lylat's primary rendezvous for mining conglomerates and independent contractors working to harvest the precious minerals buried deeper within the fields. Along the outer layers where debris was in minimum profusion was where a blueprint of numerous docking stations and resource depositories acted like meadows within the lifeless frontier. At several points within an invisible atmospheric field, similar to the barriers used on Corneria's Steel Collar to house air and a small fraction of gravity outside the stations, were several larger trading stations that attached themselves upon solitary asteroids that were originally spared from the miners to be used as building grounds for outposts. Every trade outpost along the blueprint housed at least a thousand tenants, including stationed conglomerate miners and free trade agents passing through during their annual visit to bar their reserved assets brought in by the miners. Apart from the common workforces were sovereign artisans who chose to reside upon the trade outposts in favor of their secluded locations separated from the Cornerian sphere of control. It wasn't unusual that most of these entrepreneurs revolved around the confederate-deemed illegal trades, from the manufacturing of experimental pharmaceuticals to outlawed weapon research. Meteo's reputable isolation provided a somewhat safe port for the crooked ventures of the private sectors beneath the lawful radar.

Fox already knew a lot about Meteo from his classes in Business-Ed. The whole place was notorious in the world of commerce, and despite Corneria despised the entire sector with a burning passion, it was always considered to be one of the favorite subjects of all the business professors back at the academy. Professor Harksak described the place to be a "utopia for the greedy and… _desperate,"_ the breeding ground of all illegitimate trysts between the underground corporations responsible of secretly commanding the flow of Lylat's commerce. The entire place was a hodgepodge full of money to be earned—or stolen, more likely. In most cases, the miners had an easier time staying alive within the fields while under the threat of pirate gangs, more so than what the remainder of Meteo's community back at the outposts risked every day they resided on the premises.

Life could be easily rendered worthless with just one badly planned transaction that could lead to a fate even worse than death.

Across the docking bay of the trade outpost was a flood of people swimming about, most dressed in foreign clothes while some wore standard work jumpsuits carrying about crates upon levitating carts and some utilizing larger platforms which relied on heavy duty wheels. From what Fox could see this moment while moving through the crowd was too much for him to process quick enough, from random mix-bred species wearing silky attire to heavily cloaked merchants which reminded him of nomadic monks. At each opposing flank of the bay there was a mix between natural rock and artificial metal, half of the station interior relying on the base asteroid's natural surface to provide the necessary support to keep the facilities foundations from falling apart. The facility itself wasn't very much old, in regard to the low amount of rust forming at the metallic walls and ceilings. If Fox had to guess, this station was considerably newer than the others who appeared from far away to be just barely clinging on to their separate asteroids, like dying spiders desperately trying to keep grips on a wet brick wall.

Peppy was appearing better rejuvenated thanks to his eight hours of sleep despite he limped with every step and occasionally would press his palm against his neck wound every time he tried to swallow saliva. Fox wasn't feeling at all better from his own rest. From what he figured at first to be a steady six hour sleep period ended up taking only half an hour before the shuttle bell obnoxiously declared they had passed the borders into Meteo. His days in school helped him realize the unwelcoming fact that a person getting up in the morning from a night without sleep tended to feel better than a person getting up from a night of not enough sleep.

The two of them worked their way through the immigration checkpoints and past the hound sentries who wore uniforms similar to the maroon and forest green guardsman attire. But the lack of the army's hound insignia on their helmets and shoulder guards supported the premise that they weren't just regular retirees from the service, but rather renegades.

One of them had taken issue with Fox's Cornerian flight coat and tore it from his shoulders without giving an explanation before waving a handheld scanner across his torso. The scanners themselves were more or less useless being most if not every newcomer was carrying a weapon of some sort. If a passerby was flagged by a scanner, he'd be taken to the side by one of the sentries and questioned about his purpose in Meteo. The sentries themselves held superiority within the docking bay. The newcomers would be treated like fresh game if their reason for visiting wasn't deemed "acceptable" or "convincing" enough. If they couldn't afford to bribe for a passage, they would most likely be condemned for conspiracy and stripped of everything then left to rot in the dank tunnels of the station. It was common in the outposts to be approached by numerous vagabonds at the gates, each begging for passages off Meteo in exchange for their indentured servitude. The very thought of being trapped in a similar position made Fox feel sick to his stomach.

Peppy had been flagged by one of the sentries despite he was deemed "clean" by the scanner (how he was able to keep his pistol undetected was beyond Fox). When questioned by a brutish Doberman he calmly explained he was working for a man named "Cyris" and was dropping by on private business. The name obviously held some sort of appeal with the guards and out of something that resembled fear they allowed him to move along unscathed.

"An old business contact," Peppy explained when Fox had asked who this Cyris was. "Bit of a racist against canines. Supposedly he came through here a year back and killed somewhere around a couple dozen hounds, lynched up the old guard captain in the barracks and took his tail for a souvenir. Became something like a dog's version of the boogeyman."

Past the docking bay and farther into the station was a series of tunnels. The design resembled a bit to the ones found in the Spike Stations orbiting Corneria, with the addition of cave-like rock foundations formed across the walls and ceilings. Making up the station were four subdivisions that acted like opposing neighborhoods. Each had its mix of dormitories, eateries, trading posts, and security barracks. The first and second wings were reserved for the upper tiers while the remaining two housed the lower populace. The very order of things, which was also found in Calidame, irritated Fox. Even light years away, social segregation was still prospering.

After a moderately long walk through the fluorescent lighted tunnels, they arrived to a larger chamber appearing to be something of a loading bay for mining vessels, stacked boxes scattered across the concrete floor and cranes hanging partially from the ceiling fifty feet above. Peppy had approached a tall set of metallic doors, big letters spelling out **SUBSECTOR HIGHLAND** written out on a neon sign above the circular frame.

"They've innovated a bit since the last time I was here," said Peppy with a pleased tone.

Fox looked to the door which was huge compared to the others they had already passed. He could only imagine it was built to accommodate the size of a small ship. This entire piece of the station in particular was basically disserted, not a soul in sight. They had to be standing within an industrial section used mainly by the miners.

"Innovated?" Fox asked when Peppy's claim was followed up by only silence.

Peppy hummed an accord. "You used to have to take a spacewalk across the canyon to reach the other side."

The hare walked up to a metal box attached to the wall at the left of the circular doorway. Opening the cover, he pulled down a red lever. An exhale of steam blew past several vents, along with a _woosh_ and a loud buzzer that sung in rhythm with several flashing yellow lights encircling the giant doors. Taking a step back, Fox watched as the doors opened up like the hangar gates back at the Steel Collar, the loud echoes of turning gears pulling apart the gate. Past the heavy frames was a long tubular tunnel made of a strong glass braced together by several equally distant metal rings. At the tube's center, a railway bridged over to the distant complex four hundred yards away, a broad rectangular platform sitting dormant like a flat elevator lift waiting for passengers.

"Think nobody will mind if we take an unscheduled trip?" said Peppy in a way he was joking. He stepped past the doorway and onto the platform, Fox following onboard. At the bottom left corner beside the safety rails, Peppy swiped a plastic security card over a glowing red scanner.

_The guard back at the hangar must be wondering now what happened to that card,_ Fox spoke in his mind. When Peppy glanced over to him with a grin, Fox smirked and shook his head.

"Nimble fingers." The hare raised his free paw and danced his fingers like a magician performing a trick. "Compliments of my thieving ancestors."

Locking a lever towards the direction of the opposite complex, there was a heavy jerk in the platform below their feet and soon they began to move at a steady pace. Peppy stood by the controls while watching past the glass at the left. Fox glanced to the right and saw the exterior of the asteroid surface. The gap formation outside was indeed shaped into something like a canyon. The gorge stretched hundreds of yards into the rock and dropped hundreds of more below the tunnel lift. To the left lied an open visual of space, the inner asteroid field miles and miles away flowing along like clouds in a terrestrial sky in the view of Lylat's home star, Solar, shining vibrant orange from hundreds of astronomical units away.

"The irony of it always gets me," said Peppy as they watched the void.

"Something so peaceful yet so cruel," said Fox, concurrently. "I've heard that before."

"It's not as bad as you think." Peppy folded his arms, the platform below moving at the speed of a two-legged jog. "There's a black and white to everything. There'll always be the bad, but the same goes for the good. You just have to teach yourself to appreciate what light that's left while remaining attuned to the darkness."

Fox felt one of the corners of his lips raise higher, the whiskers along his snout flickering once a funny thought passed him. _"Peppy Hare,"_ he softly mocked. _"The Warrior Philosopher._ Good title if you ever decide to write a book."

Peppy hiccupped a chortle and lowered his chin to try and conceal a broad grin. "God help me," he groaned, sarcastically. "You're becoming more like your father with every hour."

Fox chuckled back, despite the reference had dissolved the "feeling good" sensation from his blood flow. Soon his grin dropped into a frown and instead of the actual space behind the passing glass, he was staring dully into the space of air in front of him. His conscious continued to wonder how long in this quest would it take for him to get over Dad being gone.

* * *

Several minutes past the gateway into Subdivision Highland they came up to a doorway into another chamber, this one holding a plastic clipboard above the open/close mechanism, the room's title imprinted in black tiles with written words stenciled beneath.

**REPAIR WING 4**

**DO NOT DISTURB!**

"This guy really doesn't want to be bothered," said Fox as they eyeballed the door where a vertical black and yellow stripped caution line marked the division of the door.

"Being a celebrity has its ups and downs." Peppy took a step up to the door controls. "Apparently this one wasn't a fan of the attention."

"You sure he'll go for this?"

"Nope."

"Well, do you _think_ he'll go for this?"

"I can only hope so." Peppy slid the stolen security card down the scanner's red eye and caused the door to slowly separate.

Fox frowned, now feeling doubtful whether or not their visit to this antisocial amphibian would have any real success. "Sooner or later my luck's gonna run dry, man."

"I can lend you my foot if you want." The hare lifted up his injured leg and shook it slightly, causing the brace to rattle. "Who knows? Might just rub off a miracle."

"Clever, big ears."

Past the open doors there lied a widespread storage bay filled with dormant machines of all kinds, most appearing old and weathered while some sat about stripped naked of their protective plates like dissected robots, systems of wires and rusty engines exposed like mechanical organs. With the exception of life, the entire room was crowded with over twenty different beaten-down vessels. The workload appeared cut out for a staff of several dozen, but not a single soul was in sight. But echoing along the walls were the sounds of clanking metal and the squeak of rusty wheels. Somebody was bound to be making them.

"Anybody home?"

Peppy's call was met with more squeaky wheels and rather the sound of clanking metal, there was a crank which reminded Fox of knuckles cracking which soon he realized to be the twist of a wrench.

"Lock the door," Peppy instructed. Fox suddenly remembered the possibility of an assassin trailing behind them and reached behind to activate the doors, causing them to close. He twisted a key shaped knob on the control panel and a light above the doorway switched to red, showing the door was on lockdown.

_"__Hello," _Peppy called out, again._ "Who's the chief in charge here?"_

Once again, nothing in return.

The sound of the wrench stopped and was suddenly replaced with the crackle of a blowtorch. In the air, Fox could smell rust melting under extreme heat and turned his head to face deeper into the repair bay. Peppy had done the same once picking up the scent. From what he could tell, it must've been coming from the middle of the room. Stepping around several parked mining drones and one large dozer that sat out of commission without its tracks, several sparks came through to Fox's eyes from behind a smaller vessel in the shape of a saucer. The source of the sparks was coming from below the suspended craft hanging three feet off the ground from the support of a lowered ceiling crane. A shadow engulfed figure was lying below it. Fox didn't recognize it to be a living creature until the blowtorch gave a pause when one of the man's legs shifted and exposed the bottom of a fat boot.

Approaching the saucer, both Fox and Peppy looked down to the big feet that occasionally twitched. A melodic humming had begun to drift across the concrete and into their ears. The sparks once again started to rain down and emit flashes of light in the shadow.

"Excuse me," Fox this time spoke, trying to be polite. "Think you could spare a moment to help us out?"

The worker continued to go about his repairs, ignorantly humming a random tune and apparently unaware of their presence.

Glancing over to Peppy, the hare softly shook his head with a smirk before angling his bad leg's foot behind the gargantuan boot below, pulling back and causing the worker's body to roll out upon a roller from beneath the saucer.

The worker instantly stopped humming but remained frozen in his previous stance, his arms bent up with one hand still gripping his blowtorch that continued to spew a short, stagnant flame. Above his porky torso covered in a baggy faded blue jumpsuit was a fat oval shaped head with the face completely hidden behind a rusty mask. The blacked out eye panel remained poised above and watched both Fox and Peppy give a downward stare. It was either that the mechanic was frightened to the petrified form of a statue, or simply he was embarrassed as if a group of strangers had suddenly turned the corner and caught him with his pants down.

"Oh," the plump worker suddenly acknowledged, finally releasing his finger from the blowtorch's trigger. _"Uh…_ hi."

"Slippy Toad?" Peppy asked in a stronger voice, assuming the worker was half deaf.

The worker still hadn't budged a muscle. His entire body was hidden completely under his jumpsuit with his hands protected behind thick fireproof gloves.

"Repair Wing's off limits," he said rather quickly, his voice high, possibly young, and not at all masculine, despite he was obviously a grown man given his portly physique.

"We're here on important business," Fox explained.

"Oh, right, uh…" The worker finally broke through his invisible ice casing and quickly bent forward to take a stand off the roller. He rose up to a short height, half a foot below Fox's ears. On top his scalp behind his mask was a red baseball cap with the twisted brim shading the back of his nearly nonexistent neck. When he was steady on his feet, he lifted up the mask to reveal a smooth dark green complexion that exemplified _exactly_ what this skittish creature was.

_Toad, _the word instantly rolled through Fox's mind and sparked him again with the stupidity he felt back when he first heard the name.

_Slippy the toad_

"Can… I help you?" The toad spoke with an enormous mouth that almost stretched from one side of his face to the other, his words coming through fairly high pitched and totally dumbfounded.

"Are you Slippy Toad?" Fox asked, despite the answer was obvious.

"Yes… I mean, no… wait, _what?"_

_"__IS YOUR NAME SLIPPY TOAD?"_

The cartoonish face of the mechanic suddenly switched from _stupid_ to _enlightened._ "Oh, right."

Fox watched as the frog's gloves reached up from his sides and followed a wire leading up from his belt. Soon his fingers reached the sides of his head and fumbled for a bit until he managed to pull down a pair of earphones. A vivid echo of heavy metal rock breached past each port, loud enough that Fox could recognize the tune to be an old classic from a Katina band called _Death Fang._

When the frog noticed the awkward stare emitting from both Fox and Peppy—Peppy, who stood by with a smirk, as if the music brought him back to his teenager years—he cleared his throat and apologized.

"Small ears," he tried to explain. "Hard to hear sometimes. Nothing personal."

"None taken." Fox forced himself to hold back rolling his eyes.

_Of all the damned creatures in the galaxy…_

_ … __it had to be a toad…_

_ … _Slippy_ the toad._

"Are… you with Lineage?" the toad asked, suspiciously. "Look, I got your notice in the last mail call, but you have to understand that the max capacitor level of a G-Seventy rocket can't be supported with nuclear transfusion without cooling, or else the entire G-diffuse system will overcook and begin a chain reaction in the primary engines and eventually detonate into a fifty megaton explosion."

"Right, of course." Fox tried his best not to appear disoriented from the rapid tech-talk. "We're not with them."

The toad suddenly gave a hiccup which could have easily been mistaken for a croak. "Oh… sorry about that."

"Lineage, as in, _Lineage Universal?"_ Peppy spoke up, curiously, as if to start small talk.

The toad gave a quick nod. "Yeah, that's the one."

Peppy laughed aloud. "What does a clothing company want with a military reconnaissance rocket?"

"They've been, uh…" The toad nervously scratched his shoulder. "I shouldn't be saying anything about this, but they've been sending express tells wanting me to help outfit a G-Seventy for deep space travel. They mentioned a couple of recent incidents where pirates raided two of their freighters on the way to Katina and made off with their entire summer lineup."

"That's a shame." Peppy causally folded his arms. "But what gives them the bright idea of using an unmanned G-Seventy to ferry a bundle of swim suits?"

"The size of the hull is large enough to hold a good amount of cargo and coupled with the speed it'd be able to outrun any ambush set up by pirates. Normally, I'd call it a perfect solution, but what they're asking me to do is outrageous. They think removing one of the onboard systems will give them extra space to house more stock. And of all the systems to choose from they couldn't have picked a dumber choice."

Peppy giggled past a grin. "Oh, boy, let me guess…"

The toad hummed in accord. "I keep trying to tell them you can't remove the cooling intake on a rocket originally designed to fly from Corneria to Zoness. The G-diffuse can't take the prolonged exposure to the heat, and if left unchecked, it'll cause the fusion capacitor to expand and detonate into a fireball as hot as a white dwarf."

Fox didn't have to ask for a reason behind Peppy's unusual amount of fascination. It was obvious what game he was playing: brightening the mood, making the atmosphere a bit friendlier for the naturally "jumpy" amphibian.

The toad giggled while rubbing a sliver of sweat from his hairless brow. "It's ridiculous, I know, so I keep telling them I don't want anything to do with it. Glad to see you guys aren't with them."

Fox began to fake a subtle laugh along with Peppy, playing along until the toad's giggles drew to a close.

"So…" The toad named Slippy stopped and looked back up to them as if they were old friends from grade school he forgot the names of. "Who _are_ you guys with?"

Fox stood straighter and folded his hands below his waist, trying to appear more business oriented. "We're, eh… independent entrepreneurs working to revive an old company that lately suffered a catastrophic blow."

The toad's face suddenly switched from curious to taken aback. He continued to stare for a moment without being distracted by the music still hissing past the earphones hung around his wide neck.

"Sorry, I can't help you." Suddenly, and abruptly, he turned and began to walk away from his current project.

"Wait—hold on a sec." Fox immediately began to follow his short-legged wake with Peppy casually bringing up the rear, appearing not at all worried. "You haven't even heard me out."

"No-no-no-no-no, the answer is _NO," _Slippy wove away his words while marching down the aisle between several other busted ships. "God, I'm such an idiot. Should've known this was bound to happen eventually."

Fox struggled to follow the toad's path through the mazes of scrap, constantly ducking his head to avoid low-lying ship wings which Slippy passed under without effort.

"I did everything he said I needed to do, but _nooo…"_ The toad continued to sarcastically ramble as he made his way towards some unknown destination, occasionally stopping by a parked vehicle and adjusting a small defect that passed through the corner of his restless eye. "Used up all my life savings, changed my name, even changed my damn birthday—Mother forgive me—but _NOOO…"_ He finally stopped at one particular spacecraft that appeared less junky than its counterparts. "Last damn time I ever trust a rat named _Gonzo."_

Bringing up his blowtorch and flipping his helmet back over his face, he began to work around the craft's dismembered wing, doing his best to ignore Fox at his rear.

"Look, I understand you went through some tough times in the recent years," Fox spoke loudly above the raging blowtorch. "I know what it's like being a target for publicity. Trust me, _I_ _know._ But our proposal isn't like others. I assure you, it's better."

_"__Better,_ he says," Slippy mocked, his voice muffled from behind the face plate. "Better, _better—_that's what they all say. Better deal for you here, better deal for you there. You invent something that everybody wants then you lose every single god given right to privacy. Why don't you just put a gun to my head and force me to work? Yeah, that's a great idea! It'd be a helluva a lot easier, I tell you. Go ahead! See what happens."

"It's not like we're trying to force you into anything. We're just…"

Before Fox could say anymore, Peppy's hand tapped his shoulder and beckoned him to create a space for him to pass. Without speaking, the hare had pulled out a familiar, sparkling blue shape from his pocket and raised it between Slippy's face and the sparks erupting from blowtorch below. A few seconds upon putting the huge gem before the toad's gaze, Peppy had begun to slowly retract his paw. With it, Slippy's head trailed behind with the eye panel of his mask dead focused on the treasure. He followed it up like a fish following a finger sliding across the outside of its glass aquarium, soon coming to a stop when the gem was directly before Peppy's chest.

"Again," said the hare, confidently, "we're not trying to force you into anything."

The blowtorch slipped from Slippy's grasp and landed on the concrete. He soon rose up his mask to reveal a face embellished with wonder. Seeing the toad locked in a state of astonishment, Peppy extended his arm towards him and offered the gem in good will. Slippy's large eyes glanced up momentarily to him. Upon being received with an approving nod from Fox, he reached up and gently claimed the gem with both hands, holding it close like a newborn infant.

_"__Sapphirian alloy,"_ he said, lightly. "With the perfect concentration of energy it can emit a beam strong enough to melt past even the toughest surfaces. The one energy beam that relies on natural energy contained _within_ the alloy. There's only been one kind of ship that's been able to… _use _it."

The toad's words instantly ran dry and he looked up from the jewel to both Fox and Peppy.

"Which company are we talking about here?" he asked while his eyes expressed a sudden revelation that most likely caused his thoughts to run dry along with his saliva.

Fox grew a grin in the corner of his snout. "You ever hear of Star Fox?"

Slippy returned with several lazy nods, meant to loosen the tension in his body. "Every so often, I hear the name." The features of his face had slowly begun to transform from short-lived relaxation to total awe-struck. It took a long moment until his small nostrils finally took in a much needed breath. "Are… are you really James Mc—"

"No," Fox answered, quickly. "No, I'm his son. My name's Fox."

For a moment, Slippy raised his brow, intrigued. "I didn't know he had a son." He blinked several times, wiping dust from the surface of his eyes. "I mean, well, then again, I've spent most of my life back on Lilya. They don't, uh, tell us much about anything off-world related. Look, I figure you already got this a lot, but everybody I know, everyone said your dad was a great guy. A hero, I'd say. I mean, c'mon, the guy sent Andross packing down to hell during the Conspiracy. Interstellar, bro!"

"I've had my fill of condolences," Fox answered, calmly. "Now all I need is help to put the pieces of his legacy back together."

"Wait, you're asking me to join you?"

"That's the proposal."

Peppy took a step forward to make a presence. "After solving the G-diffuser's power management defect, a lot of people out there would cut off a limb to have you on their side. With that amount of power behind the cockpit, a ship could double, triple, maybe even quadruple its overall effectiveness in combat." He motioned his hand to the blue gem still in Slippy's grip. "Imagine what an upgrade like that could do for an Arwing."

A _froggish_ grin grew across Slippy's wide mouth. "It'd make it unstoppable."

"Close to it."

"So what do you say?" Fox asked, folding his arms intent on finally hearing out a spoken answer.

A silence overtook the three as Slippy stood with glazed eyes focused down on the sapphire. Within the diamond-like casing was a glowing core giving birth to several small electrodes. The very sight of it seemed to capture his large gaze like a virgin viewing a lover's bare flesh for the very first time – a sight that could only bring forth the desire for wanting to see more.

"Will I be able to work on the Arwings?" he eventually asked.

"As long as you don't blow em up," Peppy answered, "we'll entrust them into the care of your expertise."

He gave another hiccup similar to the one he gave the moment he first showed his face – a sound that could easily be mistaken for a reluctant croak. Soon after the seconds ticked away with his pondering, he extended his arm out to offer Peppy back the sapphire, who gradually returned it to his pocket. The very gesture gave Fox a negative assumption. But soon after the toad's eyes had drifted to the floor below, they soon returned up, resting above a broad smile.

"Alright," he answered, boldly. "I'm in."

Fox instantly gave a delighted nod while Peppy reached forward to shake his hand.

"Peppy Hare," Peppy introduced. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Toad."

Slippy cracked into a snigger while shaking the hare's hand. _"Slippy_ will suffice, Mr. Hare."

To the side, Fox couldn't help but laugh under his lip, partly out of humor but mostly out of a relief. Things were finally beginning to turn out for the better.

"So," Slippy asked once his handshake with Peppy had finished, "what's our next step?"

"Next?" Peppy's eyes suddenly grew more calm and relaxed than how they usually were. "Lunch."

Fox instantly shot him a confused glance. "Lunch?"

"Damned straight. I haven't had a bite of food in two days." The hare patted a hand upon his gut. "About forgot I was starving."

Fox suddenly realized he, too, was suffering from an empty stomach. He wasn't very much surprised given all what he and Peppy had gone through in these past forty-eight hours since they left the Steel Collar, being on the run with the devil at their heels.

"I've got some old coleslaw in the office if you're interested," Slippy suggested while removing his helmet.

"That'll do."

"Wait a minute, so that's it?" Fox was still feeling a bit skeptical of the entire ordeal. "He doesn't even have to sign anything?"

"This isn't the army," Peppy explained, sluggishly. "The contract is signed by a man's word and is upheld by his level of commitment. After that, it's just an evening celebration shared out of a bottle of bourbon."

"Closest bar's reserved for hounds," Slippy added with a shrug. "Sorry."

Fox couldn't help but smile, amused by the lack of formality and the realization that he wasn't a part of some special military unit sporting a fancy uniform and giving every response in a brief, robotic manner. The very impression of it all resembled more to a war-bound fraternity who relied on brothers and instincts more than they relied on weapons and good looks.

For a split moment in the midst of their bonding, something had begun to rattle in the back of Fox's ears, causing his smile to drop and his muscles to grow tense. He instantly recognized the feeling filling his veins like a drug.

_Somebody's watching you, Fox._

The reflex brought his arms up without his consent, and for a reason he couldn't at first fathom, he dropped to the floor while pulling Slippy down with him. It was this fraction of a second that a ball of sparks jumped out from the rusty hull of the parked mining rover to their right. Peppy had sprung to his senses and dropped down just as another spark erupted close to where Fox had pulled Slippy to the floor. The sound of a ricochet echoed around the repair bay.

"It's that sniper again!" Fox yelled.

"I told you to lock the door," Peppy scorned.

"I did! He must've got in from somewhere else."

_"__Holy…"_ Slippy had begun to feel around his hairless scalp and noticed his cap was gone. Looking several paces across the gap between the half-dissembled rows of machines, he found the cap lying on the concrete. Reaching over quickly, he pulled it to safety and was about to slip it back on when he noticed a small, hissing hole in the right corner of the **S** emblem stitched right above the brim.

Fox could see it, too, but could hardly believe what it meant.

"I don't know how, but thanks," said Slippy as a bit of his shock wore away.

"Don't mention it." Again, Fox could barely believe he actually saved the man's life without being fully in control of himself.

"Stay down." Three paces, away, Peppy sat with his back against the tread-less bottom of a construction dozer with his legs sprawled out. With one hand he held tight at his leg brace trying to keep his joint from bending too much, all the while his other hand was fastened tight around his chrome pistol. He turned his head to check their flanks. "Did you see him?"

"No muzzle flashes." Fox sat crouched behind the mining spacecraft Slippy was recently attempting to work on. Slippy mimicked him at his side, not appearing much afraid but undoubtedly confused. "I don't know where he is."

"Is this something you forgot to mention in the proposal?" Slippy asked while keeping a hand pressed down upon his red cap, in fear of it getting shot off again.

To the side, Peppy had repositioned himself upon his hip. Using his good leg's kneecap, he slowly began to press himself up, being sure to keep his long ears lowered down across his neck and stay aware of the distance between the crest of the dozer's front hood and the top of his scalp. In a short moment, he managed to peek his eyes up above just in time to hear another invisible projectile whiz forward and bounce from the rusty surface a foot from his face. He ducked on instinct once the shot came through.

"Son of a…" He shook his head in aggravation. "I knew it. He's toying with us again."

"What the heck for?" Slippy asked, still lost in the situation.

"He obviously doesn't wanna kill us yet."

"He must be trying to kill somebody," Fox brought up, but immediately after, felt his eyes turn to the side to view Slippy. Peppy across the lane had begun to do the same.

"You're kidding, right?" the toad argued. "If he's after you, why bother with me?"

"Because you're helping us," Fox clarified.

"The two of us together make up the bounty and chances are we're worth more alive than dead," Peppy explained further. "You're just a complication on his part."

Slippy had begun to pat his overalls in search of something. He soon stopped and cursed below his breath. "Figures. I left my gun in the office." He quickly adjusted his cap for a better fit, taking a breath to steady his flabby limbs. "Change of terms – you two help me get out of here alive and I'm in this till kingdom come or if you ever decide to fire me."

"Done. Just stay behind Fox and pray he'll shed some of his magic powers onto ya."

Ironically, given the lethality of the situation, Fox felt himself chuckle. He instantly returned to silence once another ricochet ripped by their source of cover.

"It's coming from somewhere up high," Peppy exclaimed.

"Are there any windows or doors apart from the one back there?" Fox asked.

Slippy shook his head. "It's a hanger. One shot to a window could suction everything out into space. Didn't you pay attention in school?"

"What about doors?"

"Just the front one." A flicker of thought began to cause the toad's brow to twitch. "There are the ventilation ducts. He could of…"

He started to slowly look up towards the ceiling, and Fox did the same, seeing the entire surface above veining with steel ducts like a massive honeycomb.

"Sonofagun could be anywhere up there…"

A snap suddenly broke through into his ears and Fox looked directly up just in time to see the crane above break from its hinges.

_"__Watch out!"_

Grabbing Slippy's shoulder he pulled him to the side just as the two ton crane fell down like a small meteorite, reducing several machines to scrap pancakes. Shrapnel sliced across the air passing just inches from Fox's ears. Regaining his foothold, he glared upwards at the crane's original port. It was peculiar at first when he saw a lumpy shape attached to the wires beside the broken hinges. He didn't realize it to be a person until he saw the shape suddenly move and a portion of its physique switch to a darker shade of color.

"He's on the ceiling!" Fox called out.

"Get to the door. _Go!"_

Peppy took a hold of his shoulder and dragged him back the way they first came in. Fox pulled Slippy to his front guiding him ahead with a paw gripping his shoulder, using his own back as a shield. They crouched lower to the ground once another snap erupted from somewhere above. But instead of another crane, Fox felt a hot stream of light graze his shoulder and just barely miss the back of Slippy's head.

Peppy, moving close behind, had twisted his torso and angled his pistol arm up. He fired several blasts up towards the ceiling where Fox could see a well camouflaged figure pursuing them like a monkey with a gun. The circus assassin soon paused in his acrobatic chase and positioned up a long barrel to his shoulder while hanging on a thick electrical wire like a bat. A flash emitted from the barrel and Slippy gave a shriek when another shot darted close by and formed a small cut on his cheek.

_"__Creepy-crawling sonofa…"_ Peppy had angled himself again to fire back, but as his shots rang through the repair bay, his target wasn't the same. An electrical fuse box over by Slippy's office door all of the sudden erupted in a bocce of blue sparks and flames. An electrical shockwave shot through the hundred different wires attached to the ceiling, lethal streams dancing across the lines from every corner of the room. Up above, Fox saw the assassin suddenly become engulfed in the current, his body shaking violently just as the primary lighting had started to fail. The moment the emergency lights saved the bay from total blackness, the spider-like assassin's body dropped like a lifeless stone, landing somewhere deeper within the repair bay.

"You think he's dead?" Fox asked once the three had reached the doorway.

"Don't count on it," Peppy answered. "Get the door open. We gotta get off this rock."

_Apparently everywhere we go is a place we gotta leave._

Approaching the door controls, he found the entire surface smashed into a crumbly pulp.

"He's busted the controls," said Fox upon seeing every switch either missing or melted into the mangled frame. "I can't open it."

"I got this." Slippy stepped forward and claimed a pair of pliers from his belt. Knocking his fist against the side of the console, the protective frame broke free and fell to the floor. Without taking a second to breathe, Slippy had hunched over the cluster of exposed wires, using his pliers to dig through the hodgepodge of colorful rubber lines.

"How long is this gonna take?" Fox asked while keeping a cautious eye towards the scrap maze.

"An hour. Maybe two."

"Wait, what?"

The toad broke into a laugh. "Relax."

In queue with Slippy's reassurance, the door creaked and gradually began to separate.

"Chump forgot to cut the wires," the toad explained through a chuckle. "Guess he's never been one for spy movies."

"That's beginner's sabotage," said Peppy. "This one's too smart for that."

Without warning, several crackling gunshots exploded from their rear, numerous blasts emitting sparks overtop their heads. They ducked in unison while Peppy, without hesitation, pulled Fox to the half open door. Fox held tight to Slippy's shoulder and the three of them moved connected like a chain with Slippy at the point. To their rear, Fox could see the assassin advancing past the scrap maze. He moved forward in a fuming march, one arm raised with fingers brandishing a sleek black pistol. Through the flashes emitting from the muzzle, Fox could see pieces of the creature's face. The skin upon its scaly face was morphing different colors and its eyes appeared minute like black beads. He wasn't able to tell what it was being Peppy's own pistol had started banging across the air and shifted his conscious back into survival mode.

Squeezing past the partially open doorway, the ricochet echoes bounced from the walls beside them. This multicolored assassin was either a horrible shot or was too disoriented from his recent fall to shoot straight.

"Keep moving!" yelled Peppy while firing on the run. Up ahead, Slippy was hunched over another console thumbing several switches before using a pair of wire cutters to cut off the power flow below. The door started to close and the assassin continued to shoot through the slit, but ceased fire when the door had finally shut off sight.

"Good stuff," Fox patted Slippy's shoulder while taking a breath of relief, his body beginning to shiver from the excess of an adrenaline rush.

There was suddenly another series of gunshots echoing through the doors. Fox soon realized the echoes were traveling past the nearby door vent. After taking a step forward, Peppy suddenly blocked him with his arm, his old eyes focused on the vent with his own pistol raised.

It happened so suddenly that Fox just barely was able to see the stream of light buzz past the air between his and Slippy's head. He snapped into reality once Peppy had begun firing dead on into the vent below where the face of the assassin suddenly vanished like a rat along with the shimmer of his weapon.

Peppy cursed furiously above the banging of his pistol. The vent had eventually been transformed into a crudely shaped design of ruptured concrete and melted alloy reformed into glowing spikes.

_"__Peppy, let's go!"_

This time, Fox pulled Peppy's shoulder forcing him to break his frenzy. Slippy had begun leading the way down the tunnel towards the giant glass cylinder housing the moving storage platform. The entire area was surprisingly still deserted and Fox cursed in his mind, given it was all the perfect stage for an easy murder – a stage they had walked right into with their only feeble qualm being to lock the front door. This guy could fit into ventilation shafts and move and react at the speed of a hyperactive squirrel.

Entering the loading bay, the platform was thankfully still docked on their side. Rushing aboard, Slippy activated the controls and started the lift. Twisting a knob behind the lever, the speed of the platform increased to the equivalent of a sprint, causing Fox to shift on his feet and Peppy to nearly topple backwards. The space past the glass to the left remained stagnant with immovable stars while the asteroid surface to their right moved slowly along like a distant mountain peak. Wind blew across the back of their heads while the trio watched Subsector Highland move away from their grasp.

It was the moment they were nearing the halfway mark of the cylinder when a person appeared from around the corner and walked to the center of the loading bay. Even from afar, Fox could see the dark clothes he wore across his sleek hide emit smoke. He was still burning from his recent run in with several thousands of electrical volts, miraculously still on his feet and standing in a stable pose.

"What's this guy made of?" said Slippy in shock. "Rubber?"

"Get down."

Following Peppy's bleak warning, the assassin fired a single shot that chased through the cylinder like a kamikaze killer bee. Fox shoved Slippy to the side just in time to save the unwary toad from being shot in the chest. But in doing so, he felt a sting pierce his shoulder and violently vibrate his entire left arm. He yelped once he realized the projectile had slammed into him and brought his knees slamming into the steel floor.

Peppy to the side had taken an immediate stand from his crouch. Straightening his pistol arm, he shot in the form of a traditional gunslinger firing a single, lethal round in a duel. On the opposite side to where the assassin stood like a statue, his shoulder budged the moment Peppy's shot grazed it. The flesh wound didn't even seem to move the killer. Instead, he remained standing and rather retaliating, he gave a long death stare like a panther eyeballing a worthy adversary.

"You ok?" Slippy ducked down to help Fox back up to his feet.

The wound in his shoulder appeared light, not life-threatening. But the melted hole in Fox's green jumpsuit, coupled with the charred fur and skin shown where the laser had failed to go all the way through forced him to clench his shoulder as a small amount of bleeding and pain began to come around to his senses.

"I think so," he answered, trying to ignore the growing sting.

"That's the third time now," Slippy showed he had been keeping count of the number of times he had saved him from getting his head blown from his shoulder. "If the circumstances were different and the bar was all-races, I'd buy you a drink."

"Staying with us will be enough." Fox looked over to Peppy who appeared too had not even acknowledged him getting shot—or perhaps he did and was already aware the wound wasn't severe. The hare watched with a dark stare over to where the assassin's misty form continued to view their departure to the station core, no longer a threat… for the moment.

* * *

The bleeding had been stopped with a quick application of a tight bandage Fox had created from a red handkerchief offered by Slippy. The assassin's pistol fired standard light impact laser emissions rather than the heavy projectiles his sniper rifle fired before. Luckily, the shot had cut into his hide at the shoulder of his left arm leveled with the armpit, leaving behind a painful, yet not deadly third-degree burn that could be easily treatable once they successfully found safe passage out of Meteo.

Slippy had given a claim while on the run that there was a recently decommissioned deep space mining vessel docked in another isolated section of the core station. Apparently, he was supposed to receive the vessel today in order to salvage the primary systems before sending the hull packing to the scrap heap. Fortunately for the three of them now, there was a delay in moving the vessel down to the repair wing. The ship, he stated, was an older ferry that was nearly four decades old and had been used to transport miners into the asteroid grounds where they would drill by hand while in the protective encasing of spacesuits. Years after the outposts became fully constructed and the miners adapted to using more effective drilling vessels and robotic drones, the ship class was repurposed for outpost maintenance. The ship in question was one of the older birds, but was supposedly still space worthy. Not to mention, unlike the newer models, it was built for light combat with pirate vessels giving it greater agility and a more than large enough hull space to accommodate a crew of three.

They found the ship docked in one of the service bays between several long columns of stocky-built fighters used by Meteo's anti-piracy squadron. The ship appeared ready for lift-off, most likely was partially rejuvenated to take a short trip around the station over towards Slippy's work area. The dock gates at the end of the ovular service bay were opened, perhaps out of the carelessness of some dockhand and also being ships were regularly flying in and out. Slippy mentioned at this particular hour there would be only two or three sentries sitting at the control room watching over the dock through security cameras, and being he was already well known by the station security, they would most likely assume he was only coming in to retrieve the vessel to fly it over to the repair bay himself. Therefore the threat of being pursued by Meteo's crooked defense force was slim if not totally improbable.

The three of them kept their pace to a quick walk, trying not to appear too hasty in the lens of the cameras. Slippy led the way while Fox brought up the rear, keeping sure Peppy didn't fall behind thanks to his bad leg.

"She should be fast enough to keep your unwanted friend behind at a distance," Slippy explained as they approached the polygonal shaped spacecraft that resembled a rusty box with broad, upside-down V-shaped wings with its paint long worn away along with any evidence it was truly _space worthy_. "The only question is where exactly are we heading?"

"Bangalor," Peppy explained, coughing momentarily to clear the dried saliva clogging the back of his throat. "Once we get there, we'll be fine."

"Sure, being there's a certain special something waiting for us when we get there," added Fox. "What was it again, old timer?"

"You'll know when we get there, sonny."

"Well, whatever it is, I just hope it can fly." Slippy continued to lead on with a jingle of tapping tools in each wide-legged footstep. "This old horse will be a corpse by the time we get there."

Slippy arrived to the open hatchway and hopped aboard, heading to the cockpit past the cargo hold. Peppy grunted as he attempted to step up the ramp, the pressure on his leg testing his battered endurance. Fox kept the hare's body stable by holding his shoulder.

While helping Peppy up the ramp, Fox felt his ears begin to twitch along with his nostrils. That now familiar fuzzy feeling in his head had brought his ears up and eyes from the floor and to full alert. But whatever was causing this hesitation to arise like a burning fuse beneath his skull wasn't as big of an attention grabber as was the smell that had gradually begun to filter into his nose.

_I know that smell._

He didn't think. Instead, he reached forward into Peppy's jacket pocket and pulled out the silver pistol. Before either Peppy or Slippy could react, he turned away and began a jog back down the open lane between the docked security fighters. He heard Peppy call his name from behind but refused to listen. The smell now clogging his senses was growing with each step forward, and with each step, his grip around the pistol became stronger.

_"__Pigma!"_ he yelled with a rising anger, his voice echoing throughout the hangar.

New echoes came into his ear and not far ahead. Footsteps. Then he saw the fat figure of the swine himself step from around the corner of an idle fighter's wing, so ghostlike that he felt his grip on Peppy's pistol suddenly fail. The gun fell to the floor below him as his pace slowed to a halt, his eyes opened wide in shock and a sudden rise in fear.

The lips around the creature's flabby lips twisted into a malicious grin. The heavy tan flak coat he wore around his broad shoulders flipped open to reveal a maroon jumpsuit similar to Peppy's with a wide-fitting utility belt strung around his hips in the fashion of a desperado. Two pistols were holstered at each thigh along with enough ammo cartridges and knives to booster the pig's reputation as a notorious serial killer.

"Good nose, you spoiled little punk." Pigma's voice was grizzled and possessed a bit of a squeal, the very psychotic tenor of it sending shivers clicking up Fox's spine.

Fox could hear Peppy frantically screaming his name from behind, but the words bounced from his flat ears, lowered feebly beside his scalp. Pigma chuckled in his sadistic accent while casually pulling free a pistol from his holster and taking aim for Fox, who stood petrified from a dozen paces away. A straight laser pointer underneath the barrel created a glowing dot at the center of Fox's forehead.

"You should know that Daddy squealed _real_ good before he died." The shadow surrounding the monster's eyes grew darker as he lowered his brow. From Fox's end he could see his thick, callused finger begin to squeeze the trigger. "Time to squeal, Foxy."

The last visual that Fox could remember once a flash emitted from the pig's pistol was his father standing at the edges of a desolate plain. The ground beneath the man's feet was course and sharp with brimstone, black and lifeless like the yellow glow breasting the horizon behind him. He was unscathed from what Fox could see from this hazy angle. His coat blew with his tail in a strong breeze while his limbs remained as solid as stone. His face watched over the cliff edge ahead at an approaching hell unfolding before the distant mountain peaks. The onslaught rolled down the slopes like an unstoppable wall of fire. Gigantic eyes that shined as black as ink surfaced through the flames, leading the charge towards where James McCloud stood lonely like a gargoyle content with his own lifelessness. And that was when Fox suddenly saw the man's head slowly turn back from his pending death and look him straight in the eye. That sharp, almost callous expression that made up his hawk-like gaze breached through Fox's mind like a dagger, as if accusing him of a crime he didn't know he committed in the first place.

Just as the titanic black glare at the head of the fire storm rose above the cliff and stopped behind his father, Fox finally heard the bang of the pistol. But the blast caused his mind to return from purgatory when he realized it to be a duplicate of the first that fired just before Pigma's pistol went off. The first blast had caused Pigma to squeal in pain and drop to the floor, his own pistol firing off a shot that just missed Fox's face by a mere inch, so close he felt the hairs along his cheek hiss under the heat of the laser.

He finally breathed once he realized he was nearing suffocation. He watched with shock as Pigma lied upon the floor, growling in great pain as he held his left thigh with both hands. Crimson blood was leaking past his fingerless gloves. Steps had begun to echo to the right, and Fox looked over to suddenly see the all-too familiar face of an old acquaintance breach the shadows.

It was Wolf, his eyes revealed, but in his mind he could barely comprehend the reality of it. It was impossible at this moment to tell whether or not his presence was real or just another near-death glimpse into the afterlife.

The man was there, alright, standing in the flesh, brandishing his own pistol at his side that leaked a line of smoke from the muzzle. His surreal yellow eyes looked to him with apathy, totally unpredictable.

Fox didn't allow himself to fall victim to its passive power and quickly reached down to reclaim Peppy's pistol, aiming it to Wolf's head from three body lengths away. Wolf didn't flinch or make a move of any kind, but simply stared, completely fearless and almost immortal. He knew what was passing through Fox's head right now. He knew his confusion outweighed any desire to eliminate him as a possible threat. Fox only pointed the gun but the tension between his finger and the trigger was nonexistent. Slowly lowering the gun, he watched Wolf for a few more seconds, speechless, disregarding the groans from Pigma who continued to roll back and forth on the floor.

Suddenly, Wolf lifted up his left hand towards his face and gave the same lazy salute he first gave Fox back on Corneria, the crescent moon scar on his palm fully exposed.

_Survival_

_The game that never ends._

_"__Fox!"_ Peppy yelled from the mining transport, breaking the unnatural silence. The ship had already switched on its engines and was beginning to hover forward.

Fox felt his feet begin to step backwards while trying to pull his eyes away from where Wolf stood like a ghost viewing his leave. Turning around, he ran for the transport leaving Pigma and Wolf behind. Reaching the ramp just as Slippy in the cockpit had finished preparing for takeoff, he hoped aboard with Peppy pulling him safely in by the shoulder. The ship began to fly for the open gateway. The loading ramp closed behind him and Fox turned his eyes back just in time to view Wolf one last time.

The black coated canine continued to stand dormant at Pigma's side, watching Fox in a way a father would watch his son leave the safety of his care for a war waging in a faraway land.

* * *

His mind was racing. Fox couldn't fathom the absurdity of what just happened. Pigma was there—_right there._ And right when he could have ended this entire feud, he hesitated.

_You idiot._

_You goddamn coward, that's what you are._

His body had begun to go haywire. Stepping forward he began to reach for the ramp controls, as if to rush back into the hangar and finish the job. Peppy's iron grip instantly took a hold on his jumpsuit with both hands, Fox mindlessly trying to break free.

"Let it go, Fox!" Peppy yelled into his ear, keeping him away from the door.

"I need to finish this," he answered in a voice that sounded possessed under a spell. "Pigma, he's—"

"He's not our concern," Peppy sternly spoke back. "The only thing that matters right now is staying alive."

"Let me go!"

Fox thrashed out of Peppy's hold and tried to leap for the controls, but Peppy had instantly reached again for his shoulder. Before he could take a grip, Fox turned around, violently batting away his arm and quickly slamming his fist into the hare's cheek. The hit barely moved Peppy and the old soldier took an even stronger hold around Fox's jumpsuit and shoved him hard into the wall over by the side, causing several spare pieces of the scrappy wall to break loose and fall to the floor around him.

The slam against his back caused Fox to snap to and his eyes finally began to show evidence of sanity. As he began to cool down, his chin slowly dropped as his breaths started to come through as gasps, on the verge of breaking down.

Peppy had approached him from the front and soon laid a hand upon his shoulder.

"I couldn't do it," Fox spoke on, half weeping. "He was gonna kill me, Pep. I had him right there and I couldn't do it."

"Your time will come," Peppy said. "These things aren't as easy as they seem to be. You have to stay smart."

Fox rolled his head to the side towards the closed ramp, continuing to breathe in gasps past his parted lips. His brow felt heavy and began to sink down onto his eyes, creating a depressing portrait of failure.

"You're diving headfirst into a new world." Peppy leaned his head closer in to gain back his attention. "You can't let your feelings get in the way of your better judgment. You have a gift and the last thing this galaxy needs is you wasting it off of something pathetic like revenge. You're smarter than that, Fox."

Fox shook his head, trying to deny his words of sympathy; trying to see the world through logic instead of hopeful praise. He was a fool for going out like he did. _He_ was a child picking a fight with a seasoned foe. The odds spoke for themselves. He was jumping into a new world with luck as his only buddy.

The truth remained that all forms of luck were meant to eventually wither.

He shook his head more vigorously, the feeling of Peppy's hand clenching his shoulder only reminding him more and more of the past – Dad, Pigma, and even the vigilante, Wolf. The shaking couldn't wear away his desire to cry and he eventually broke out. Peppy instantly took him by the head and pressed him into his shoulder.

"I will _never _leave you behind." Peppy continued to hold him tight as Fox cried into his coat. "You're not alone in this."

A moment passed with Fox weeping his share until he felt his control return and he slowly rose up from Peppy's shoulder, the orange fur around his dark eyes damp in tears. He sniffed his nostrils and suddenly looked over to the side upon feeling the eyes of somebody else upon him. Slippy stood several paces down at the entrance into the cockpit, silent and respectfully isolated from the personal moment.

"I've set a course for Bangelor," Slippy spoke, calmly. "It'll be a bit of a voyage. We should reach the atmosphere by noon tomorrow."

Fox lowered his snout, trying to hide his face while quickly rubbing his eyes. "Thank you, Slippy," he answered softly, still weary from his recent episode.

"Thank you both," Slippy came back, his eyes opened with gratitude and respect. "Especially you, Fox. I owe you more than one."

Fox soon looked up to view Slippy at the cockpit door, who gave an indebted nod, then turned to see Peppy still standing at ease before him.

"You're not alone," the old hare said again, proving furthermore his point.

Fox closed his lips upon understanding the bigger picture, the one he looked past like a sheet of glass while rushing ahead to fight the battle on his own. Looking back to Slippy, he gave a nod of content, and the toad lightly smirked before heading back into the cockpit.

Peppy patted him once more before turning to follow Slippy into the cockpit. Fox remained still, watching him leave until he passed out of his sight. His mind drifted farther into another stupor but suddenly began to focus around the peculiar fact revolving around Wolf's recent intervention.

_A familiar face from another planet suddenly showing up out of nowhere and shooting a hole into the leg of my mortal adversary?_

Just who was this sonofabitch? A guardian angel… or just another wolf in sheep's clothing?

* * *

The shuttle disappeared into the void leaving the hangar seemingly deserted. There was no worry about security moving in to investigate the scene. The entire occurrence happened in a blind spot, all to Wolf's own fortunate share of luck.

"You backstabbing _bastard,"_ Pigma hissed from below, still grumbling over his wounded leg.

"Please," Wolf dismissed his words. "Don't be such a hypocrite."

"As soon as this leg heals, I'll cut out that tongue and shove it up your—"

Without much dithering, Wolf lifted up his pistol and fired again. Pigma squealed as the second shot created a thicker hole in the place of his original wound. He banged his head back against the metal plating of the dock floor and roared in pain.

"Shame you'll have to wait so long." Wolf holstered his pistol behind his faded green flight coat and spat onto Pigma's shaking hide. "But as long as you're in my crew, best mind your patience, you teat suckling piglet."

Steps had begun to echo from around the adjacent fighter column and out past the wings walked his one remaining "true" associate. The smell of burnt leather flowed into his nostrils and he saw the chameleon brush several ashes from his shoulder.

"You want to get checked out while we're here?" Wolf asked in sympathy.

Leon adjusted his back straighter, spine cracking as he emitted a groan of discomfort from his scaly lips. "I'll live," he answered in his naturally raspy voice. He nudged his chin down to floor. "What about the bacon strip?"

"For now." Wolf glanced down to Pigma who appeared now to be more furious than distressed.

"They have left unharmed, yes?" Leon asked.

"With three accounted for." Wolf continued to stare towards the open gateway, momentarily taking a deep breath and allowing it to slide out his nostrils.

"And one too many. My apologies, boss."

"Perhaps it's for the best. The field is now even."

"I cannot help but doubt that."

"They're still unaware of our numbers," Wolf explained. "Therefore, we hold the element of surprise."

"With all due respect, I do believe the addition of Arwings will tilt the scales substantially towards their favor."

"You'd have us run them down before they find this advantage?"

Leon remained silent, but continued to stare with both eyes to where Wolf exchanged an emotionless gaze.

"You've always preferred the quicker solution, Leon." Wolf turned his head back towards the gateway, already set keen onto his current plan. "Those are hardly worth the pay."

"A prolonged hunt may coerce Andross to send another assassin." Leon stepped beside Wolf, leaving Pigma to lie grumbling on the floor, still bleeding. "One with a target other than the fox."

It was young, untainted souls like Fox McCloud which made Wolf appreciate the world better. The boy was an exceptional subject of foolish youth acting through a developing code of conduct. His irrationality would most likely outdo his better sense of logic and lead him to commit easily avoidable mistakes. But then again, Wolf wasn't one to underestimate a young prey who with everyday grew stronger and wiser. McCloud was a noble being in Wolf's eyes and to disrespect such a lad with a golden spirit was dishonorable on his part. Every prey deserved a proper chance to defend themselves. For a boy in a position where half the Lylat system would eventually become his enemy while the other half would flock behind him like sheep to a shepherd, Fox deserved all the time he could get. Wolf made sure of this with the help of two pistol shots that were conveniently aimed away from Pigma's leg arteries.

"The trick to hunting a fox is to allow him to run first." Wolf grinned as he thought back to the gung-ho, one-man army display demonstrated by the boy before. "The trick to killing one is to force him to stop and take a stand."


	8. Chapter 7

**7 -**

Time passed unbelievably slowly for Fox, who spent the entire night attempting to sleep past the rattles of the shuttle's ancient hull. Peppy slept like a rock. The very picture of it was unfathomable along with the odds of it. Occasionally his fluffy rabbit lips would click against his front teeth and his maulers would grind together to make a painful sound.

At other times he snored. That was when Fox started to consider asking Slippy for a round with his music headphones. Slippy had remained awake the entire time and didn't appear the least bit tired. He occupied himself with tending the ship's systems, from the cockpit down to the engines beneath the floor plating. The toad (or _frog,_ Fox couldn't yet tell which) was a regular workaholic. Sitting around without a task was basically impossible for him. That explained why the trade outpost back on Meteo relied solely on him to keep the population of ships in working order. Apparently machinery was more of an addiction than it was a career for Slippy Toad.

Fox spent some time in the copilot's seat while Slippy used his array of handheld tools to spruce up the mainframe. Though the ship's survival probability was matched to zero, he insisted he could keep it running at full speed until they reached Bangelor.

During their time together, while Peppy slept in a corner back in the cargo hold, Fox had brought him up to speed with the reason behind the assassin dilemma.

"Can't believe it," Slippy spoke in mild shock. "Didn't your dad kill that monkey during the Conspiracy?"

"Apparently not," Fox answered, watching the stars outside the glass shield. "And apparently he's been alive this whole time."

"Unbelievable." Slippy sat back in the pilot's chair resting his leg on top of the adjacent, casually making adjustments to a portable can-sized power component with a screwdriver (apparently this was his idea of a break from actual work). "Back on Lilya, we heard stories, you know, about what Andross did and how your dad stopped him. Most of it sounded like crazy talk. They said he actually captured a Venomian dreadnaught and rigged it into a giant plow and sent it straight through the Venom air-defense grid. Took out half the fleet guarding the atmosphere and shot the dreadnaught right into the flag ship, cutting it in half just before the Cornerians finally showed up. I gotta know… did it really happen?"

Fox shrugged. "All the stories are true to a degree. Can't say the accuracy of that one's on the mark."

"Yeah, I figured it was pretty far-fetched."

"Nah, being the Cornerians never made it to Venom during the war," Fox explained. "They got held up in a siege on Zoness during the winter solstice. Dad went in guns blazing without them."

A hiccup echoed from the bowls of Slippy's throat, once again making Fox believe he had just held back another croak.

"Unbelievable…" Slippy tried to revert his attention back onto the unknown device in his lap. "And here I was slipping around a crib while this guy was out blowing up bad guys like a superhero."

One word caused Fox's mind to shift off topic. "If you want we can start calling you by your real name."

"No, I'm cool with it." Slippy chuckled. "It's just taken some getting used to. I mean, the last person who ever called me 'Slippy' was my mum, and that was—_phew—_ages ago."

"How exactly old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know…" Slippy groaned, annoyed but not totally surprised by Fox's bewilderment. "My kind grows past adolescence faster than the other species, mind and body. Still remember a bit of my tadpole days. Can't say I miss having a tail and no movable limbs."

Fox slowly nodded while looking back to the glass ahead. After a moment, he chuckled at an amusing realization.

"What's so funny?" Slippy asked, curiously.

"Nothing, I just haven't met a lot of your kind, that's all."

Slippy paused from his fiddling and straightened his back, appearing snubbed from his words. "Well, I dare to say you don't see a fox around every planet nowadays. Guess the galaxy isn't too lighthearted on your kind, eh?"

Fox turned his sharp eyes to where Slippy returned to fiddling with his miniature project. After a moment, the toad finally caught glance of his puckered brow, his wide face going from cheeky to apologetic as quick as a shooting star.

"I didn't mean—"

"You know, we used to have an exceptionally varied diet," Fox came back immediately, his amber eyes becoming deceivingly playful. "Frogs were a bit of a delicacy."

Slippy was now watching Fox with unblinking eyes, nothing about his expression indicating he was even breathing. "That's… W-wait, was that really true?"

"I'll be sure to ask the next fox I see." Fox loosened the glare in his eyes as he sat back comfortably in his chair. "No telling when that'll be, right?"

Some time passed while Fox watched the stars and Slippy had begun to listen to his music, the volume so loud that Fox, once again, was able to recognize the tune.

"How old is that thing anyways?" Fox spoke up after nudging Slippy's chair with his boot.

Slippy removed the earphones and glanced down to his lap where his stocky music cassette player lied with a wire streaming up his chest and into each nub sized plug.

"Oh, this?" He lifted up the player. "Lord knows, man. I found it buried in an old freighter on Katina while working a contract with the merchant navy. Took me years to find the parts to get it working. I mean, the thing deserves to be in a museum but I thought, hey, what the heck? And the best part of it was how Death Claw still records on classic cassettes. I think they've been around since those plastic squares first became obsolete."

"That'd make them over three hundred years old."

"Rock lives forever, brothah."

Fox chuckled back when Slippy laughed at his own words.

"Hey, I know it's probably none of my business," Slippy switched subjects. "But that guy back there. Pigma? Who was he, anyways?"

Fox frowned while taking a moment to contemplate the perfect answer. "Just an old business rival of my dad's."

Slippy hummed in accord. "Sins of the fathers pass on to the sons, yeah? In this case, the jerk-offs who thought your dad was getting too much of the pie back when he was still around."

"No kidding, right?" Fox kept the truth to himself. Member of the team or not, Slippy was too much of a stranger for him to go venting the full story behind this venture. He wasn't sure what he would think about the true purpose behind this "Star Fox revival" being for retaliation against the man who led the first team to their doom – more frankly Fox's _revenge_ against the bastard, Pigma, for causing his father's death.

_I'd feel a lot comfier with that swine dead and vaporized._

_Call it 'revenge' if you will, Pep._

"Can't say this isn't the first occasion somebody's tried to wack me," Slippy spoke after a momentary silence. "Had plenty of moments back when I came up with a better gravity diffusion formula."

"Who'd wanna kill you for something like that?" Fox asked, confusingly. "You'd think they'd try and recruit you like we did."

"Well, the answer is hidden right there. I said no, and if they couldn't get me on board, nobody could."

Fox's lips grimaced. "Ah."

"I've never been very, eh…" He paused, thinking of the proper terms. "What would you call it… _conventional?_ When it comes down to what I do, I prefer to work on my own without some wiseass's supportive input."

"Sounds like somebody had a tough childhood."

Slippy slipped him a scrutinizing glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I was the same way in the beginning," Fox explained. "Grew up in Calidame, went to an all-hound boarding school. For a while I was a bit antisocial."

"It's not that I'm _antisocial._ I'm just…" Slippy hesitated for a moment, his eyes looking down into a blank space. "Alright, fine, so I _am _a bit antisocial, but just whenever I'm working… which is always, come to think of it."

Fox sniggered while leaning father back into his chair, trying to stretch out his spine. "Well, being there's just the three of us you'll have nothing to fear once we finally get settled."

"No worries, I won't be a burden." Slippy turned silent while looking out the glass and taking in the spectacle of the star field. His face began to put off a slight expression of concern with his wide mouth frowning and his eyes becoming sunk beneath his hairless brow.

"What's the matter?" Fox asked when noticing his change of attitude.

"Nothing, really." Slippy reconsidered his words. "Well, I was just curious if… _this_ is it. Me, you, and that rabbit, Peppy."

Fox blinked. He hadn't considered the possibility of adding furthermore onto the crew. "It's not really necessary," he answered his first thought. "We've finally got a tech expert and as long as you can fly, the three of us oughta do just fine on our own."

Slippy suddenly grinned, appearing to be holding back a laugh. "I can fly and I can fight," he reassured. "No worries about that. But still, just three men against—"

"My dad did it," Fox interrupted. "Led a three-man team through regular flights into hell and back."

"Was it always that way?"

"Not always. There were others from what I can remember. Guess Dad figured a smaller team was better for Star Fox. He chose his closest and his best to fly along. Both Peppy and…"

He suddenly stopped once Pigma's name reached the tip of his tongue, but Slippy had already taken notice of his reluctance to speak further.

"Hey, it's no problem," Slippy spoke encouragingly. "I know I'm a bit new here, but you can trust me. It's not like I'm looking to backstab you or anything."

Pigma's face came to Fox's mind and he instantly felt his blood begin to run cold and his face express insecurity. "It's nothing personal, Slippy," he answered, calmly.

Although appearing disappointed, Slippy respectfully nodded his head. "I understand."

"What makes you bring up our numbers?" Fox asked, suddenly becoming curious of the subject.

The toad frowned and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it was just a thought." He made one last crank with his screwdriver before leaning forward to set the power component in his hand upon the dashboard above the mainframe. "Actually, it's because of something I came across back in Meteo. Probably nothing that could help us out, but then again, it did take up a lot of the gossip going around the outposts."

"Well, let's hear it then." Fox leaned to the side of his seat, intent on listening further. Slippy returned his back into his chair, resting his heavy gloved hands upon his plump stomach.

"Sometime last month," he began, "there was a rumor going around about a recent dogfight that happened in the inner fields. Most of everybody assumed it was an exchange between two of the local gangs that went bad. But I heard one of the guards mention that the recon team sent to investigate found it to be a group of pirates chasing after a single fighter. There wasn't any debris left over suggesting it was just another gang battle. According to the grapevine, something happened which sent one of the pirates running for the hills with the others nipping at his tail."

"Sounds like a betrayal," said Fox.

"That's what the guard said. Around the same time the rumors surfaced, I got an unnamed request during mail call from some guy who said he needed several power couplings and a replacement engine for a Victor Mark Two. On normal circumstances, I would've had him pay me up front and send the ship in, but that was the thing – the Victor is a decommissioned Katina fighter. They sell for cheap and the only people out there who still use them are privateers."

"So you thought this guy who sent the note was that rogue pirate from the rumors."

Slippy shrugged. "It had to be him."

"Guessing you turned down the offer to patch up his ship, then."

"I usually have my customers pay up front in full. This guy didn't even have the common courtesy of putting down a half-payment. Being a pirate I doubt he could've even afforded it. Damn right I turned him down."

"What happened next?"

"I told security about him, but they didn't believe me. When I showed them the message, they checked each of the docks and couldn't find a Victor parked in either of them. Guess he was in so much of a hurry that he ran off before I even had a chance to properly decline his order."

It'd be a lie to say he wasn't interested in the story, but Fox began to doubt whether or not there was any use in hearing it through. "So how does this help us?" he asked. "Some random desperado who makes the headlines then bugs off never to be seen or heard of again."

"He turned out to be a lot more desperate than I thought." Slippy nudged his head to the direction of the ship's rear. "Two weeks ago, he came back and sent me another note."

"What'd he want this time?"

"A new ship. One of the interceptors used by security. Guess he had to ditch his old pair of wings and returned to get his hands on a new one. It wasn't that surprising he came back to Meteo for a ship. They're plenty of half-decent models up for sale in the outposts. But this guy said he needed something faster than the junk that went through the black market and thought one of the anti-piracy fighters was a perfect fit for him. He even offered to actually pay me this time."

"So did you go along and hook him up?"

"I hired one of the local station rats to sniff him out and give the proposal: twenty thousand, all in advance, no partial payments."

Fox's eyes blinked at the heavy price. "He could've bought two ships for that amount."

"Extra ten thousand for me risking my job by swiping one of the interceptors off the docking bay," Slippy came back. _"Way _more than reasonable compensation."

"Did he go for it?"

Slippy suddenly chuckled. "That's the funny part. A day after I sent out the proposal, one of my regular customers mentioned he saw a bird moving around the rich district putting out contract offers to local company recruiters in exchange for an immediate service payment. According to my regular, this guy stood out from the crowd like a burning torch. He got into a fight with one of the recruiters after getting turned down for being a raptor – those kinds are usually dangerous, from what I've seen of them. Short tempers and whatnot."

"Last time I saw a bird I nearly got a hole blown in my chest," Fox added.

"I've never been comfortable around them either. But this one, the pirate, looked like he was from a whole other galaxy. My regular said he couldn't even tell what species he was and assumed he was from somewhere in the Borderlands." Slippy took a moment to cough up saliva drying in the back of his throat. "Anyways, he wrote back the next day after security let him loose from detention. Made a claim he could give me the account number to a private deposit in a bank on Corneria. I knew he was bluffing, so I denied him. That day, a week back before you two showed up, there was news from Beta Outpost that one of their fighters was stolen and whoever took it slipped away from the interceptors inside the inner fields."

Fox couldn't help but chuckle. "Ambitious squawker."

"More like 'psychotic jackass' for stealing a ship belonging to the Meteo Guard. They would've chopped him to pieces and fed him to the ferals if they managed to get a hold of him. But somehow—though, I don't know exactly _how—_he was able to get away in one piece… at least they say he did."

Fox had never been much for feeling impressed (apart from impressing himself from his celebrity days in school). But in this particular case, through Slippy's given perspective, he couldn't help it. This lone pirate sounded like one of those infamous banditos from the movie reels, an outlaw managing to slip past the authorities and continue to live an exciting life of anarchy.

He decided to go for the goal. "Did you happen to get a name?"

"The last message was recorded in a PDA he sent to me through the mail call." Slippy reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out the device similar to Peppy's. "He mentioned in one of the notes that he was trying to get across the system to Zoness and needed to go dark. I don't know why, but I guess I was the only one he could trust with it. He kept most of everything in there. Even left his name."

Fox accepted the PDA once Slippy offered it forward. Bringing up the front screen, he soon found everything to be inside like Slippy said: mercenary dossiers, star charts, even the pirate's route to Zoness with each and every one of his checkpoints listed. Among several journal entries written in a foreign alphabet, he came across a name that seemed to fit well with the profile of the species.

"Falco," he read the name aloud. "Falco Lambardi."


	9. Chapter 8

**8 -**

Bangelor was in sight the following morning. Despite appearing so close from a distance, it took the shuttle until solar hour noon to finally arrive to the surface. The planet was smaller in comparison to its sister terrestrials like Corneria and Katina, resembling more to a lonely moon sitting desolately inside a ring of crystallized sediment.

From the outside it appeared like an orb of fog. Past the atmosphere it was impossible to see anything, forcing Slippy to rely on the ship's sonar. Bangelor was known to be mountainous. The last thing Fox wanted to happen was for his quest to end in a head-on collision with one of nature's grand masterpieces. When they finally made it past the ceiling of clouds, the true identity of Bengelor was revealed. A massive jungle stretched for miles across avid mountain sides, completely untouched by foreign hands. The planet would've provided a perfect foundation for a home, but it resembled to the oceanic planet, Aquas, in the way is just couldn't be colonized. Every attempt made always ended in disappointment. The jungle was as immortal as it was endless and every effort to clear a sector for construction led to immediate overgrowth. Despite it was impossible to tell from above, there were plenty of ruins across the landscape, once part of several colonies before becoming consumed by the merciless vegetation.

They landed in a meadow just barely large enough to accompany the shuttle's size. The landing couldn't have been better timing. Just as they were mere feet above the forest floor a small blast tore through the shuttle's engines and brought it slamming down to the floor, snapping one of the wings that was crippled during their flight through the atmosphere.

Fox had to hand it to Slip. He could only imagine how far they would've gotten in that junker without him.

The crash didn't seem to concern Peppy, nor did the possibility of being marooned on an alien frontier. He led them both into the jungle, apparently aware of where they needed to go. As several hours of relentless walking passed, the growth had begun to thicken to the point Fox wished he had something like a machete to make walking easier.

As much as it would seem the anticipation of what was waiting for them beyond was what kept driving him forward, it barely phased his wandering mind. In truth, Fox was still dwelling on the story Slippy had mentioned about the rogue pirate, Lambardi.

_Falco Lambardi_

The idea of a lone privateer on the run from those who wanted him dead made Fox wonder about his own stance. It made him appreciate having Peppy at his side even more. With Peppy as a guide, his odds of survival were raised tremendously. And now he had a third able-bodied comrade, Slippy, to rely on (or so he hoped). What did this Falco bird have? The poor squawker was on his own relying solely on wit and skill – he must've had plenty of both, but that alone wasn't proving enough. If Fox had to guess, luck must've been his only fuel. The birdbrain's tank was bound to be running dry.

Peppy used a broken stick to wave in front of his path to clear away webs belonging to giant spiders as big as the hare's fist. He advised from ahead for both of them to stay close on his tail, mentioning something about carnivorous insects that preferred to pick off solitary prey. Slippy was humming for the majority of the time, not appearing the least bit frightened. Fox had to force himself to stay brave – the jungle was without a doubt _not _his natural habitat.

"You know, you should be proud, Fox," Peppy had begun speaking from the front. "Your ancestors used to adore this sort of environment. It's got everything the solitary man would desire: plenty of adventure, atmosphere, bountiful trees, the occasional monsoon…"

"I _hate_ rain," Fox immediately came back. "Anybody who thinks it's fun getting wet can eat my fleas and kiss my bug-bitten ass. No offense, Slip."

The toad/frog was in his regular Lala-land. He continued to hum under his puffy cheeks and smile at his surroundings, from the endless assortments of alien plants to the moisture swelling within the brush.

It wasn't long after the vegetation began to grow denser that the smell of water came to Fox's sensitive nose. Up ahead, Peppy had breached what graciously revealed itself to be a tree line. Exiting the confines of the forest, the clearing ahead opened up into a giant lake that stretched a mile in diameter. The water itself appeared clean to the touch, so clear yet—for some reason in Fox's gaze—deceivingly empty.

"Is this the big surprise?" he asked Peppy, looking for a better explanation.

"Looks pretty fine to me," Slippy spoke up, kneeling before the shoreline. "I could use a swim after sweating for the past three hours."

"You'll have to keep your eyes closed," Peppy mentioned while tossing his stick onto the surface, causing ripples to shockwave outwards. "It's contaminated with liquid nitrogen."

From the side, Slippy had cursed in pain while pulling his fingertips out from the waterline, sticking nearly his entire hand into his engorged mouth, relying on saliva to quell the burns.

"Liquid nitrogen? That would mean…" Fox gazed over towards the lake's core, his confusion instantly vanishing with his newly gained enlightenment. "You've gotta be kidding me. You've been hiding the Arwings beneath a lake this whole time?"

Peppy continued to watch the water in calm serenity, but soon Fox started to notice the hare's cheeks begin to flare from a growing grin.

"Among other things," Peppy answered and reached into his pocket to claim his PDA. He spent a moment typing in several keys. While waiting confusingly, the sound of a couple bubbles popping on the water surface caused Fox to look down, then back out to the lake. He couldn't tell much if anything was happening below, thanks to the cloudy, darker atmosphere making midday appear more like evening.

_"__Identify,"_ a quick, robotic voice suddenly spoke through the speaker of the PDA.

"First Mate Peppy Hare," the old hare addressed. "Clearance Code Red."

After a moment of silence, the voice on the opposite end of the line returned. _"Voice patterns clarified. Welcome back, First Mate Hare."_

"Initiate Green Protocol Alpha. We're coming aboard." Lowering his PDA, Peppy leaned his head to the side, as if to whisper into Fox's ear. "I think you're gonna enjoy this."

Something was now happening at the lake's core. Fox could see and hear a stream of bubbles jetting to the surface, as if an underwater volcano was beginning to erupt from deep down. The seconds ticked away and the bubbles became more frequent and so powerful that the center of the lake resembled a giant Jacuzzi. He noticed a reddish gleam slowly begin to illuminate the waterline at both opposing sides of the lake, and soon their sources began to surface at each point. They turned out to be bright red lights attached to what appeared to be huge wings curved seventy-five degrees from whatever base was still beneath the water. Between each towering wing, another large figure had begun to take rise – this one caused Fox's jaw to drop when it revealed itself to be giant head connected to a long neck.

What captivated his mind into a blank stupor of awe was the sheer size of this titan arising up from its watery slumber. It continued to grow tremendously while rising past the surface. Its vanilla white plating steamed like dry ice exiting the confines of a warm liquid, every piece of it clean to the touch thanks to its extended bath time. The giant head that first caught Fox's attention extended far from the thick neck that soon became attached to a heavy hull. The strident stream of bubbles gradually began to be replaced by the hum of heavy duty engines that arose from the rear. To the front, Fox was suddenly staring down the barrel of one of the twenty inch cannons below the neck. As the gigantic guns rose above him, the stomach of the mechanical behemoth suddenly parted to give an opening. Past its white gates was a dark tunnel that must have been a launch pad leading to whatever was stored inside the gigantic hull.

The ship had finally risen from the depths and came to a rest upon the water like a swan. The head towering above them, which Fox assumed to be the bridge, blocked out whatever light that was coming through the clouds.

_Dad never mentioned anything about this…_

"Welcome home, gentlemen." Peppy stood by, still grinning.

Fox continued to look up to the titan's head like a mortal gazing up to the face of a god. Glancing to the side, he saw the biggest display of bedazzlement leaking from Slippy's bug-like eyes, each opened wide as if the ship before them really was some sort of divine being encased behind a hide as white as snow.

* * *

The ship was a regular marvel inside-out. The Cornerian vessels Fox had ridden in the past were cardboard boxes tapped with plastic cannons compared to this white colossus of a beauty.

Not only was her exterior unique in shape, but the interior proved to outmatch the traditional Cornerian designs by a long shot. The docking bay was specially designed to deploy ships through a skinny launch tunnel that was located beneath the primary cannons. An anti-gravity field similar to a G-diffuse system extended like a bridge from the tunnel entrance. Getting onboard was as simple as stepping into the field and allowing the tractor beam to pull you into the tunnel like a moving walkway.

Peppy led both Fox and Slippy down the launch tunnel and soon had passed through the docking bay and into the hangar. The room was considerably smaller than the docks on the Steel Collar, but appeared large enough to house several ships along with dozens of personnel. From what Fox could see, it was empty, not a speck of life to be found in each of the four corners.

"Where're the Arwings?" Fox asked Peppy while looking around for any sign of the fighters.

"Locked down," Peppy answered. "The original attack was a deep strike operation so we flew in silent without support. Bangelor is one of our staging grounds as well as a general rendezvous in the case the heat proves too much. Something like our 'secret lair', if you're one for comic books."

Taking a lift one story up, the following hallway was flooded in a deep emerald glow. The walls were flat and spotless, pristine white that appeared like faded lime. Passing into the crew lounge, a kitchen that resembled more to a bar was accompanied by a circular family room of couches, several monitors and an observation window making up the ten foot high walls. The Bangelor forest outside remained isolated from behind the glass.

"Roomy," Fox mentioned with Slippy at his side, both of them continuing to follow in Peppy's limping trail. "Beats the scrapheap, doesn't it?"

Slippy didn't answer. His eyes looked dry from not giving a blink since the moment the awesome cruiser surfaced itself above the lake like a genie offering to grant three wishes for the three of them.

There was another elevator sitting close to the center of the lounge like a trunk through the core of a tree house. Its shaft was bent at an angle and Fox assumed it to be the lift up through the ship's neck to the head-shaped bridge. Arriving to the doors, the emblem of the team, the Valkryie Fox, was stamped in crimson red atop the white plating below an imprinted title. The words were written in lime green and instantly took Fox to be the name of the ship herself:

**GREAT FOX**

_Catchy, Dad._

The trip up the elevator raised them another two stories through the shaft. The walls of the compartment remained exposed at the side, allowing Fox to see the bare skeleton of the Great Fox's foundations. Peppy to the side spoke like a museum guide. He explained that the armor making up the shell of the entire craft was divided into separate layers of sturdy metal, each at least six feet thick and able to withstand direct hits from a battleship's turbo laser and guard mostly from heavy ballistic missiles. Though a ship this size wouldn't be much of a fight against something like a Venomian dreadnaught (Fox had seen pictures of such a vessel – it was a regular floating fortress able to overpower ten different battleships through sheer firepower), her overall impression spoke of power and prestige. Peppy made her sound invincible.

"More than capable in a heavy firefight," Peppy continued. "Not much in close quarters, but each fusion generating cannon is strong enough to vaporize an entire asteroid. She serves both the roles of a carrier and our eye in the sky, offering long range fire missions when necessary while following behind at a safe altitude. It's our job to punch through to the attack while she keeps us posted on the enemy movements. She's the paw – we're the claws."

"Dad never said anything about you guys having a cruiser," Fox mentioned his skepticism.

"Since we try to keep her existence on the down-low. We want whoever we're going up against to figure they're going at it with just a few measly fighters. Not to mention, she's no juggernaut when it comes to a knife fight between opposing cruisers. That's why we keep her back during most engagements."

"Like a sniper," Slippy mentioned in a dreary voice, probably thinking back to recent history.

"A sniper with a gun capable of tearing an entire frigate in half."

"Then who's the handler?" Fox asked, still confused. "You guys have another team member I didn't know about?"

Peppy blinked and gave a doubtful expression. _"Hrm_… yeah, I guess you could put it that way. More or less."

The doors separated to open up a new room in the shape of a dome. It was obviously the bridge given the sudden outburst of electrical terminals and computer screens decorating the walls.

"Greatest thing about Great Fox," Peppy continued to speak as they stepped into the room, "she only needs one avid multi-tasker to pilot her."

Unlike other cruiser-class vessels, this command bridge was fairly loose in clutter. Along the walls to the side were separate terminals displaying either black screens or holograms depicting ship diagnostics. The total number of stations along the axis numbered under a dozen, yet the absence of crewmembers, along with Peppy's assurance, gave Fox the opinion that this hulk could really _be_ flown by just one know-how helmsman.

Slippy suddenly gave a girlish shriek upon bumping into some metallic surface. Fox turned and instantly felt himself almost jump at the sight of a random person… or machine, he soon realized, given the absence of "skin".

_"__Unauthorized trespasser detected above deck,"_ the stranger followed in the same robotic voice that had spoken through Peppy's transmitter from before. _"Ascertaining proper protocols to begin liquidation."_

"No, wait! I'm a friend!"Slippy lifted his hands in shock.

"Relax, Rob, he's authorized," Peppy spoke to the robot in calm.

The name caused Fox to raise the corner of his brow. "You named it _Rob?"_

"Gentlemen, meet our very own Robotic Operations Body, Unit Sixty-four." Peppy raised his hand as if to properly introduce the talking clunk of multilateral shapes. "Say hi, Rob."

The android was built similar in the manner of a primate with two lanky, jointed limbs and a cylinder shaped torso covered in a mix of chrome and bronze plating. His head was constructed like a shiny bucket. A cycloptic eye with a red pupil gave evidence his attention was directed forward.

_"__Greetings, recruit,"_ he spoke with a never-ending monotone. _"Construct ROB Sixty-four at your disposal. What is your identification?"_

Several miniature gears twisted as the android raised an arm. The four claw-shaped pincers that provided him with opposable fingers were open towards where Slippy stood frozen in skepticism.

"Uh…" Gradually, Slippy raised his own hand and softly took a hold of the machine's. "Slippy… Toad?"

A quick spark ignited between both their palms and caused Slippy to curse through another shriek.

_"__Identification _Slippy Toad_ confirmed and documented into ship archive," _Rob responded. _"Clearance code green successfully granted."_

Fox watched in a mix of amusement and sympathy at Slippy squeezing his hand. Each step into the Great Fox continued to painfully bombard the poor toad with surprise after surprise.

_"__Welcome to _Great Fox, _crewman _Slippy._ You have been registered and tagged as _Star Fox." Another twist of gears creaked as Rob turned his bucket head to face Fox. _"Greetings, recruit. Construct ROB Sixty-four at your disposal. What is you identification?"_

"Fox." He unsteadily raised his hand. "Fox McCloud."

A couple seconds upon meeting the android's cold palm with his, a blink came to Rob's red eye and another twist of gears sounded as his head appeared to cock to the side, putting off a "living" gesture of confusion.

_"__System error in primary archive."_ There was another blink of Rob's eye rather than a shock emitting from his palm. _"Corruption detected within existing records. Bio-stalemate confirmed."_

"Bio-stalemate?" Fox looked to Peppy for answers.

"He thinks you're James."

Fox felt his lips loosen into a deeper frown.

"Rob, create a new file," Peppy ordered from the side. "This is James's son."

_"__Negative. Stalemate resolution requires voice confirmation from the commanding officer."_

Peppy had shifted Fox a look that spoke "Well, then?" and Fox quickly got the figure.

He coughed and tried to clear his throat. "Create a new file and resolve the stalemate, Rob." He tried to mimic his father's voice to the best of his abilities.

_ "__Voice patterns not clarified."_

"Oh, for god's sake." Peppy wove the case away. "We'll get this fixed later. You won't mind if you play your father for a while, will you?"

"I could think up a hundred ways to answer that." Fox shrugged, deceivingly careless. "For now I'll just say _'What the hell'_."

"Good enough. Rob, confirm the captain's aboard and lift the lockdown."

_"__Affirmative."_

There was a loud clang that echoed throughout the cruiser's frame. Several fans began to churn from behind nearby vents and life had begun to return to the Great Fox through a burst of adrenaline. All the computer screens switched on and began to glow blue. The glass shield encircling the bridge's front suddenly became lucidly clear as the fog that was eating away the borders faded. Several system diagnostics began to read across the surface of the glass like a giant computer monitor, each list and three dimensional diagrams surrounding a central Heads-Up-Display that caused the trees past its center to become outlined in bright green for a clearer visual. The fans that had begun churning had grown silent and became replaced with a soft hum. The ship had seemingly awakened from hibernation.

_"__System reboot complete," _Rob confirmed. _"Lockdown successfully lifted."_

"You know," Fox managed to speak past his captivated daze, "I've heard ghost stories about rogue AIs becoming self-aware and taking control of entire ships. Doesn't sound like a good idea having one connected to the ship's mainframe."

"Not if he's an RE unit," Slippy answered but soon turned to Peppy with sudden doubt. "He is one, right?"

"A what?"

"A retrospect extractor," Peppy elaborated. "A learning unit. Catalogues past events to create a basis for everything he knows."

_"__This unit is unable to process beyond programmed parameters," _Rob took the liberty of defending himself._ "According to the Toleration Act signed by the dual confederacy representatives of the Artificial Intelligence Court, operating on the basis of morality and individuality is unacceptable for any AI program, given twelve separate instances concerning titled 'rogue AI's' where consequences were deemed catastrophic."_

"Rob may be a walking history book but he's reliable," Peppy assured. "Trust isn't an issue with him. He'll do his job and follow orders… _and_ not just because we've installed a failsafe explosive device in his central processor, but because he _wants_ to. Isn't that right, Rob?"

_"__Affirmative."_

Fox allowed his concern to pass. He was never much of robotic sympathizer, but if Peppy was unconcerned, he may as well let it fly. "I rest my case."

Peppy took a step towards the helm where he watched the controls, pondering perhaps, about _what, _Fox couldn't tell. But there was one thought that seemed truly evident to Peppy at this moment: he was glad to be here. This ship was undoubtedly more than just a ship in his mind. It was the old soldier's home, the one and only place he belonged – his paradise, if he was secretly a romantic.

"Cherish the day, boys," Peppy spoke up while resting a hand upon the headrest of the pilot's chair. "Cherish the good whenever you see it. Not always will you be able to find it when you need it most."

Fox continued to watch Peppy gaze out into the hub upon the glass shield, almost as if he was looking past the tree line ahead into another realm, or maybe he was imagining the visual of space opening up to his old eyes. Stepping up to the hare's side, he lifted a hand and placed it upon his shoulder, causing him to flinch away from a trance.

"You should probably get some rest since we're finally here," he told Peppy. "You've earned it."

Peppy spat some air past his lips twisting into a reluctant smile. His chin dropped as he tried to hide it. "You don't know what it's like," he spoke softly as if he was speaking deeply to a friend rather than a child. "Standing here, safe for a moment, at peace with the world. Give it some time and you'll know what I mean. Someday you'll know what it's like."

Fox gradually nodded his head and patted his shoulder. "Thank you, Peppy."

"Go ahead and have a look at your father's legacy," the hare quickly came back past a grin. "They should be back down in the hangar waiting for you."

Fox grinned back and glanced over to Slippy. The toad appeared excited like a toddler awaking on Christmas day, anxious to race down and open his presents. He gave one last look to Peppy who had turned his eyes back towards the glass, allowing himself to return to his trance. He allowed his hand to drop from his shoulder and turned around to make for the elevator, Slippy close on his tail.

* * *

Through the entire short trip down the lift and through the cargo tunnel leading into the hangar, Slippy's excitement had grown substantially. He spoke in tech-talk revolving around whatever he knew about the Arwings, commenting occasionally on the Great Fox's architecture. Apparently, he didn't need a full schematic to make sense of the cruiser's design.

They soon arrived back to the hangar where life had returned from the lockdown through bright fluorescence. It wasn't until they passed the corner into the bay that the visuals of the legends in the "flesh" opened up to Fox like angels revealing themselves to mortal eyes.

They were all there, a full squad of four upon a lift at the center of the floor, more than what Fox originally thought there would be. Each sat at ease upon the floor of the dock, clean to the touch and more awesome than Fox could've imagined. Each hull being close to forty feet in length, their wings were folded in close to each of their G-diffuse capsules, but Fox knew the fully extended wingspan to be just as long as the craft's length. The G-diffuse capsules themselves shined sapphire blue and were shaped like arrowheads at both flanks of the white-coated hulls. The hull of the fighter was formed in the manner of a pod with the primary engine housed directly behind the cockpit. The design provided the bow with sleek, aerodynamic armor plating while leaving the stern fairly exposed.

The Arwing was purposefully built like an arrow. Its strength lied in its speed and heavy frontal armor which made it extremely deadly while implying rapid hit-and-run tactics down the enemy's throat. Its only true weakness was its partially bare ass. That, however, didn't prove to be much of a problem for a skilled enough pilot who could rely on the fighter's agility and unmatched maneuverability to outrun or outmaneuver any foe attacking from behind.

All the impossible stories he heard of his father and his team suddenly became all true, just with the sight of the angels themselves. It wasn't the first time Fox had seen an Arwing (minus Peppy's half-desecrated fighter back on the Steel Collar). Dad occasionally took him for rides back in the old days when he was just another go-happy kid who worshiped his father. He even taught him how to fly—most of everything, from how to steer to what "Back to the Taxpayers" meant in the military world—and on several occasions, allowed him to man the controls, personally, while sitting in his lap. Unlike most fighters, the Arwing had a distinctive in-flight "hum", being the engine was located so close to the cockpit. Fox knew it to be a smooth _Phrooosh_ that made him visualize waves wiping across the sand at Labrador Point Beach back on Corneria. His father explained that the fighter was a regular sea bird – a creature that needed an endless horizon in order to prosper.

Fox lost track of the amount of time that both he and Slippy stood before the fighters gawking in awe. What felt like an eternity ended after Slippy was the first to break free from the silence.

"This… _is…_ _AWESOME!" _He clumsily jogged up to one of the four pairs of wings, almost tripping over his wobbly legs before stopping beside the hull. "Never, and I mean _never_ did I expect to someday meet one of you _fine_ ladies…"

Fox stood by with an awkward glance directed to where Slippy stood half-melted in his skin, seemingly love-struck.

"When do you think we'll get to fly them?" Slippy asked, anxiously.

"I hope not any time soon," Fox answered, stepping closer to one craft in particular. He smirked at the shape of the hull which resembled a small bit to a stretched out canine head (in this case, a _fox _head) with the snout tilted partially up at the tip to reveal a small gun port hiding beneath the nose. "That would most likely mean there's somebody outside trying to kill us."

_"__Let them come!"_ Slippy laughed aloud, sounding like a demigod taunting the real gods to send forth a worthy challenger. "I know I said before I could tweak the G-diffuse on these babies and make them unstoppable…" Slippy raised his hands from his sides, "embracing" the majesty before his eyes. "But they're already unstoppable! Look at these armaments! Five guns, two specifically designed to harness sapphirian alloy then emit into a projectile. Where in the bloody hell did your dad get a hold of this stuff in the first place? Bloody, freaking _brilliant!"_

While Slippy had pulled himself up towards one of the cockpits and attempted to open it without any success, Fox approached the ship in front of him. He walked along its left side, softly wiping his fingertips along the folded wing. Upon the dorsal fin that stretched behind the cockpit between both of the blue G-diffuser capsules was the crimson Valkryie Fox. Below where the cockpit ten feet above the ground remained closed behind its glass was a phrase written fancily in black:

**To protect and profit**

"Everybody's gotta make a living," Fox murmured past a smirk. He continued to view the side of the sleek fighter until reaching up his hand to where a hand slot provided a hold to mount atop the wing and climb into the cockpit. It was the moment he gripped the hold that a hiss broke past the air vents beneath the glass frame and suddenly brought the cover slowly rising up.

Slippy had stopped rambling and approached the craft in time to see the cockpit finish giving an entry to where Fox stood still.

"Bio-stalemate," Fox mentioned, not sounding the least bit enthusiastic. He took a deep breath and shook his head, turning his wide eyes to look across the room with his lips grimaced in shame. "The whole ship thinks I'm him."

"You're standing in his footprints," Peppy's voice suddenly intervened while he walked from behind the cargo tunnel and into the hangar. "Call it coincidence, if you like. But I see a lot more sense in you being here rather than anywhere else."

In the hare's hands, he carried three glasses and a bottle of what appeared to be ancient Brandywine, perhaps a decade old given the heavy dust still surrounding its dark frame. Slippy had turned to approach him with Fox bringing up the rear. Offering each of them a glass, Peppy popped the cork at the bore and began to pour each of the three shots.

"To the loss of a good captain," Peppy spoke while bringing up his glass in a solemn toast, "and to the rise of a worthy son."

Fox watched Peppy with uncertain eyes, but he forced himself to bring up his glass and with Slippy, they returned the toast and drank their shots. The gulp of alcohol burned its way down to the bowls of his stomach and Fox gritted his teeth, keeping his overall composure.

Peppy took a breath of relief for finally getting to have his drink. He soon returned his eyes to Fox, lips stern and disciplined.

"Godspeed, McCloud," he spoke while giving a nod of good faith.

* * *

The forest was sitting peacefully within its everlasting sanctum, almost perfectly unaltered by the presence of the titanic Great Fox. The wind was nonexistent and the echoes of indigenous wildlife continued to rehearse their inexhaustible symphony.

Several alien birds soared over the lake now beginning to darken with the coming of sundown. The sky had become a deep, vivid ocean with waves of gold wiping across the misty air. Anything manmade was a stranger to this world of life. Every part of it was nature's territory.

From within the still water of the lake, sudden ripples had begun to churn from the Great Fox's hull. An even more powerful company of waves began to erupt at the stern where the engines had begun to rebuild their gigantic excess of flames. With each passing minute the power of the engines grew stronger and the blinding blue light of the turbines accompanied a growing hiss. The red lights attached at each surfaced wing were soon met with another pair once the craft had begun to rise higher from the waterline. The lower wings created a giant X through the immense hull. The belly was finally lifting up past the water, emitting steam as the warm air wore away the excess liquid nitrogen. The hiss of the engines was louder than ever now that the cruiser had successfully risen into a hover upon the giant lake.

She continued to rise higher and eventually reached the top of the forest's canopy, the gleam of the sunlight pouring across the black slit across its head, streaming down its neck to reveal the grandeur of its true size. The paint along the hull was vanilla in the sunset. Her nose pointed towards the horizon and her two gigantic turbines began to exhale a powerful stream of power, commencing the start of her faithful journey. In time, she was passing above the jungle like a phoenix with a tail alit in blue flames. Her speed continued to increase along with her altitude. It took an entire mile before she was finally limbered up and ready to set off. Her flexibility brought her nose pointed higher into the sky and her engines at full.

When the Great Fox had finally left for the atmosphere and gradually entered into an abyss of black, she left the jungle behind her churning from a breeze. The trees wove like spectators witnessing the castoff of a maiden voyage.


	10. Chapter 9

**9 -**

The hour quickly grew late and the fatigue that had embodied him drew Fox closer to sleep. He had entered one particular room separate from the crew lounge. Upon the white door was **CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS** stenciled in black.

Inside was a deep, golden luminescence that turned his fur into a brighter shade of amber. Everything appeared in neatly order as if Dad had only left recently. Even the desk lamp was switched on. Fox could smell a sweet scent arising from a bocce of cinnamon sticks sitting at the nightstand beside a simple rectangular bunk that was pressed against the right wall. The smell continued to pleasantly swell his nostrils. Cinnamon had always been his favorite scent.

_Guess it was yours, too, eh Dad?_

All and all, nothing about the atmosphere was special despite it was meant for a commanding officer. He wasn't surprised to see not a lick of decoration present. Dad was like Pepper back on Corneria, being the man purposefully lived his life as a Spartan, refusing meaningless pleasantries and embracing a life of constant strife for the better of his position as a leader. But apart from his purposeful rejection of souvenirs and other adornments, he was most likely too busy of a man to be spending time sulking inside his quarters.

Fox walked farther into the interior which was no bigger than his dorm room back at the Academy. The walls were bleached white like the hallways outside and the floor was hard and cold like a sheet of metal, clean of any speck of dust. There were several ceiling lights above but they remained off with just the desk lamp ahead providing the darkness with a dim glow. The desk was clear with the exception of two pictures encased within silver frames. Fox approached and found one to be some sort of poem while the other was perhaps the only family picture the McCloud family had to offer – the same picture he kept as a desktop computer background for every one of his classes in school.

There he was—Little Fox—a six year old pup in the presence of the master and his trusted steed. They stood on the wing of Dad's fighter as father and son, Fox perched upon the man's shoulder like a parrot, stubby fingers raised to give that stupid peace sign, all the while Dad was grinning behind the cover of his favorite pair of shades.

God, how he hated this picture. But seeing it presently took some emotional weight off his shoulders. Guess the old man kept the picture close on him like Fox had done. Moving past the family photo, he looked down to the second frame, this one preserving a poem he easily recognized:

**_Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth_**

**_And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;_**

**_Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling_**

**_mirth_**

**_Of sun-split clouds-and done a hundred things_**

**_You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and_**

**_swung_**

**_High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,_**

**_I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung_**

**_My eager craft through footless halls of air._**

**_Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue_**

**_I've topped the windswept heights with easy_**

**_grace_**

**_Where never lark, or even eagle flew._**

**_And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod_**

**_The high untrespassed sanctity of space,_**

**_Put out my hand, and touched the face of God._**

"The one poem every pilot should know," according to James McCloud. Fox had every syllable engraved in the back of his skull, given his father's past-time of reciting it to him before every bed time till the day he sent him off to Calidame Central.

_To touch the face of God…_ That was always inspiring. The life of a pilot was a rebellion against fate, taking to the skies whereas the Big Man Above would prefer you'd stay on solid ground. Taking to the black abyss of space was without a doubt a true act of defiance against the laws of nature.

Here he was with the rest of Lylat, microscopic pioneers soaring across the unused canvas of God's very own unfinished masterpiece.

* * *

He slept under a dark blue glow, trying to ignore the imaginary voices tormenting his conscious. The irony of his position was still keeping him on the edge of the mattress. Every time he managed to catch some sleep, he soon awoke in harrowing panic.

_He's here right now._

James McCloud was dead but his ghost was still wandering the deep corridors of his conscious. Fox could see him standing at the surface of a desolate world, ash scraping at his heals, a ghastly wind blowing at his coat, and the wall of fire continuing to charge at him across the distant plains. And then there were the eyes, those black pits into hell staring past the flames. The sheer satanic gaze would've brought any other person to insanity, but Fox was standing still like a statue, more mesmerized than afraid. He was watching his father return the shadowy stare. The man was as fearless as he was apathetic, accepting his approaching fate with an unreal sense of calm.

The sudden visual of the eyes in the fire caused Fox again to awake with a terrible gasp. The fur across his brow was bleeding sweat and his entire jumpsuit felt soaked. He was still panicking, so much that his vision was consumed in a maroon blanket, as if blood had sprung from his sockets and coated his eyes. He forced himself to shut his mouth and quell his gasping, taking deep and slower breaths through his black nostrils. The beat of his heart pounded like a drum until his anxiety dwindled into a bad memory.

He had just finished calming himself down when a sound of robotic gears shifted at his right flank over towards the door. He quickly turned his head and flinched in his bunk at the sight of a stranger standing in the dark.

"Dad?" he asked immediately on impulse, feeling like an imbecile the moment after.

The shadow approached and Fox immediately recognized the red at the center of its face to be the android, Rob. The robot clunked to a halt just several paces from the bed edge, his chrome and bronze plating reflecting the light of the stars leaking from outside the window beside the desk.

"Rob?" Fox rose from his bed and turned to face the clunker.  
"What are you doing here?"

The android remained silent, not even sparing a figurative "blink".

"Rob?"

Rather words, the robot suddenly emitted a blinding flash of light from his eye. Fox felt his vision turn blind and a ring of some explosive aftershock arise from his deafened ears. He pressed his hands over the lobes tightly, trying to quell the sting that had begun to pierce into his brain. The vision in his eyes settled and he began to pick out three-dimensional shapes. He was still in the room, as far as he could tell, but everything had turned to black and white. Everything from the chairs to the bed beneath him was white, except for his own body. It looked like he had just dove head first into a pool of black ink. He looked up and suddenly saw that Rob was gone, but sitting at the desk ahead was another stranger.

Whoever it was, their body was consumed under an inky black coat like Fox's, but this particular person was fuzzy like a hologram. He sat motionlessly in the chair, appearing to be minding his own business and ignoring the world behind him. Soon, a voice had begun to speak through a wave of static, making Fox think for a moment he was hearing something over the ship's radio frequency.

_"__The course has remained the same,"_ the voice began to speak while the person at the desk remained still. _"We see the same and we live past the same. The same stars, the same worlds… the same life."_

It was his father's voice, Fox realized. It had to be him.

_"__Dead men pass and their sons follow last," _the voice continued. _"The comet of crucibles. The one cycle fought through a man's closest ideals: honor and family. Such notions are impossible to look past when a man's identity becomes threatened. Will he die forgotten and unavenged? Will his son willingly take up the sword? Will the boy abandon all which the father had provided him in the first place just to pursue something as radical as vengeance?"_

Fox saw the stranger in the chair lean forward and prop his head against his palm, tired and full of doubt.

_"__The reality behind such madness eludes the eyes of the young, and I fear such a fate will be bestowed upon my own son. The question remains along with what life I still have."_ The voice took a deep breath and sighed deeply into the transmission. _"Will Fox see the truth?"_

The white blindness had once again grown to the borders of his sight and Fox suddenly awoke back into darkness. Rob was back in his original stance, the glow in his red eye slowly dimming back to a small red dot.

"What the hell was that?" Fox asked in shock. "What did I just see?"

The android cocked his head to the side, giving the only expression of "confusion" his artificial physique could muster.

_"__System error,"_ he spoke in his regular monotone. _"Question does not compute."_

_"__What… did you… just show me?"_ Fox pronounced his words, angrily.

Another second and a blink from his eye, Rob responded the same. _"System error. Apologies, sir. There is no data indicating anything relevant to your claim. Did you perhaps suffer a nightmare?"_

Fox blinked in complete skepticism. Nightmare be damned—whatever he saw was shown to him by this bucket-headed computer. "Why are you down here and not up at the bridge?"

_"__There is no data in local history concerning that I left the bridge to begin with,"_ Rob responded, professionally. _"I do not know."_

Fox was mind-boggled. If he had to make a guess, it may have been some sort of internal security protocol forcing Rob to claim innocence. Whatever it was, it had to have been somebody's doing. Most likely his father's.

Before the thought of disemboweling the robot and ripping out his hard drive fazed him, a sudden boom vibrated the hull of the entire ship causing Fox to instantly leap to his feet. The darkness had become replaced with a red glow emitting from the ceiling, an alarm buzzing from the intercom attached above the room door.

"What's going on?"

_"__Minor damage sustained to starboard hull." _Rob blinked again, indicating he was assessing the information flooding into his artificial mind. _"Missile contact confirmed. _Great Fox_ is under attack."_

* * *

_**Just to clarify, the poem is "High Flight" by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.. My grandfather was a pilot in the marines and he always had this poem framed in his office. Claimed he recited it to himself during every takeoff. Though it'd be a nice touch to the McCloud family (just as long as I don't get slapped on the wrist for copyright :D).**_


	11. Chapter 10

**10 -**

Fox hadn't spared a moment to take notice of the blinking red lights flashing throughout the hallway. He raced at full speed for the crew lounge, pointing his route to the bridge where he hoped to find Peppy.

The moment a second blast rumbled the cruiser, the hare himself had limped out from the elevator and, without even crossing eyes with him, took Fox by the arm and beckoned him to follow.

"Rob has the bridge," he explained in a hoarse voice, making Fox figure that the first blast had awoken him from sleep. "We need to get down to the hangar."

"What's going on?"

"Surprise attack."

"By _him?"_

"Who else?"

Fox cursed under his tongue as they reached the second lift leading down to the lower deck. The flight down was met with another rattle as the ship continued to take fire.

"Rob's still back in Dad's room," Fox quickly added, seeing a chance to explain.

Peppy shot him a look. "What the hell is he doing there? He's programmed to stay on the bridge at all times."

Fox shook his head, not knowing how to put the robot's dreamlike message into a quick, simple explanation.

"Rob, get your tin-plated butt back to the bridge," Peppy spoke loudly into his PDA. "We need you at the helm, ASAP."

_"__Affirmative,"_ the robot answered through the frequency.

They arrived to the lower floor of the ship which began with the cargo tunnel. Fox had to force his pace to slow down, allowing Peppy to support himself with his arm around his shoulder while making the best time he could manage with a busted leg. Soon, they arrived to the hangar where Slippy had jogged forward to meet them, appearing more prepared for combat than totally dumbstruck.

"Ship ramps are online and ready for launch," he spoke through some puffing. "So… do I need to ask _who_ exactly is ringing the bell at this hour, or is it that obvious?"

"Appears like our assassin's showed up with a couple night owls." Peppy dropped his arm from Fox's shoulder and began to limp to the closest fighter. "Let's go kick em off our lawn."

Fox watched on stupidly until Slippy elbowed his arm and gave him a gung-ho smile before rushing to claim his craft.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Fox spoke aloud as Peppy opened his cockpit and began to step inside.

"It's not like we have a choice," Peppy answered, shaking his head. "Every wasted second means another chance they could hurt GF. Grab a pair of wings and buckle up."

Fox couldn't think straight. _Honestly,_ how could he? A soldier in a blink of an eye. The fact alone was preposterous, but Peppy had a lot more sense than him at the moment.

Shaking off his hesitation he rushed for the fighter between both Peppy's and Slippy's. Taking a hold of the handle above the wing, the cockpit opened to allow him access.

"His blood runs through your veins," Peppy spoke from his ship. "Use it."

Returning Peppy's nod, he took a quick breath to steady himself before dropping into the cockpit. The cover immediately dropped down and sealed him inside. His ears popped as the main capsule equalized the pressure and brought up power to the main controls before him. They were arranged fairly different from the standard Cornerian stock fighters he flew during flight school, most notably the steering mechanism. Rather a standard stick, the Arwing used two "arm-rest" handles to direct the craft's direction, the design similar to the steering of an old-fashioned battle tank.

The lifts below their ships began to rise until they reached the ceiling where their wings became attached to large crane-like launch harnesses. They began to be pulled forward past the hangar where the gateway into the docking bay had begun to shine a rotating yellow alert light. The large doors began to separate and the cranes continued to tow them closer towards the launch tunnel, just as another bang from outside shook the Great Fox. There was a sudden hiss of static coming from the radio transmitter built above Fox's right arm.

_"__Com check. You boys copy?" _Peppy's face became visible in one of the numerous video feeds above the radio.

_"__Loud and clear," _Slippy answered, his face coming through the screen beside Peppy's. _"Systems looking good across the board, and hot _damn_ does this baby look even sweeter from the inside!"_

_"__Gentlemen, consider this your very own initiation into the big league. Get familiar with the controls as much as you can and keep in constant radio contact. That means you, too, Fox."_

"Roger," Fox broke his silence, clipping on his seat harness after briefly stretching his shoulder muscles, doing his best to limber up.

The gateway back into the hangar closed shut and the second doorway at the end of the dark chasm parted to reveal a small bundle of stars.

_"__From what we've heard from the outside they're probably just several dogfighters nipping at our heels." _Peppy could be seen adjusting himself in his seat, probably out of discomfort for his leg. _"We'll go in a standard triangle formation. Fox, you've got point. Slippy, you're his wingman. I've got the starboard side. Move fast and don't break formation till I give the word. Is that clear?"_

Fox nodded, forcing himself to stay confident. "Clear enough, old timer."

_"__Let's go get em."_ Slippy was exposing the widest smile Fox had ever seen him give, clearly more confident than _he_ was.

_"__Send us out, Rob."_

_"__Affirmative. Launch sequence initiated. T-minus ten seconds."_

Fox reached down and activated the Arwing's engines. That surprisingly soothing "hum" erupting from behind his chair came to his ears like the waves of an ocean. A three-dimensional image of the fighter arose beside the video screens along with a list of the ship diagnostics.

_Air filtration… one hundred percent_

_Power… more than enough_

_G-diffuser… up and ready_

_Armaments… standing by to kick some serious ass_

_"__Launch in five. You're first in line, Fox,"_ said Peppy. _"Wish James was here to see this."_

Now he wasn't even sure whether or not that was true. Fox suddenly remembered the vision and the man's words, speaking in the form of a self-narrative—about _what_ exactly_,_ he wasn't sure yet. The last words echoed the strongest past his growing anxiety.

_Will Fox see the truth?_

_What _truth, _Dad?_

The question instantly was scythed from his mind along with the majority of his consciousness. A sudden thrust from behind shot the Arwing through the launch tunnel like a bullet. In less than three seconds—just as Fox's body adjusted to the sudden G-forces—the ship blasted past the open gates and into space. In the background, he could hear Slippy _yipee_ing like a kid on a rollercoaster.

The moment he was free from the launch pad, the full control of the Arwing fell into his unready grasp. The wings wobbled from side to side for a short moment until Fox took a stronger grip on the handles, bringing the bird to level out and fly steadily forward.

_Talk about a rush…_

Last time he ever went through a launch with his mind wondering in Lala-land.

_"__Coming up on your left, Fox,"_ Slippy spoke from the frequency and Fox could see the nose of the toad's fighter to the left past the glass. _"Some ride, eh?"_

"You're telling me." Fox released a breath, for the moment feeling relieved. "Felt my eyes sink to the back of my skull."

_"__She handling well on your end?"_

Fox took a moment to readjust himself into his seat, suddenly feeling more relieved than ever to be finally back in a cockpit after years of sitting at a desk. Making a sudden twist of his steering handles, he caused the fighter to turn upside down. Slippy's face was visible from Fox's newly acquired angle. The very sight caused him to laugh out.

_"__Wasn't I supposed to be guarding your left?" _said Slippy.

Panning slightly to starboard, Fox caused the ship to slowly glide over top of Slippy's. Their cockpits passed and for a moment they met eyes, before Fox passed along and brought the ship gliding under Slippy's hull. The sight of the Arwing's belly passed and finally he brought his own back to its original position, the whole act turning out to be a wide barrel roll around Slippy's entire ship.

Slippy cracked up and clapped his hands. Fox was now grinning, full of pride and feeling like a superstar.

_"__I forgot this was a space circus," _Peppy's voice came through with a tempered sense of anger. _"You wanna show that cute trick to the killers gunning at our doorstep? Sure they'll spare a moment to watch before blowing holes through us."_

Fox straightened his face and instantly felt his fun level drop to zero. "Sorry, Pep."

_"__Fighters have already pulled back. Head back to the Great Fox and let's check for any hull damage. But keep an eye on your radar."_

Fox brought his craft in a sixty-degree turn as Slippy and Peppy flew tight at his flanks. The Great Fox was just ahead in full view – and to Fox's realization, it was the first "full image" of the massive ship he's been able to see. It really did resemble a giant swan with two sets of wings shaped together like a massive X. As they flew across the side of the hull, the white plating gleamed like a flat plain of snow. Below the giant dorsal fin was her name imprinted in sleek emerald green, along with a giant **STAR FOX **emblem.

_"__I count three blast marks below the lower engine compartments,"_ Peppy spoke during their slow fly-by. _"Nothing that looks serious. How she looking on your end, Rob?"_

_"__All damage sustained. No hull breach detected. Great Fox is OK."_

_"__You think they gave up?"_ Slippy asked from the left.

"Doubt it," Fox answered. "Either they're pecking us like crows or they're reforming for another pass."

_"__Looks like it's scenario number two," _Peppy suddenly mentioned. _"Check your radar."_

Fox looked just in time to find several blips directed right over his position. He quickly looked up above his glass and could barely pick out the silhouettes of several unknown crafts flying down from afar.

_"__How many do you see, Rob?" _Peppy asked.

_"__Radiation scan detects an estimated eight individual trails at one hundred kilometers and closing."_

_"__Form up. This is gonna get messy real fast."_

When Peppy raised his nose, Fox followed with Slippy and together they formed a three-plane battle line.

_"__I count at least five bandits on radar,"_ Slippy spoke while keeping pace at the left. _"Maybe more, not sure."_

Fox began to pray that there really was such a thing as "natural-born skill." The three of them accelerated to attack speed as the enemy approached in a frontal assault. Flicking a switch beside the radar, he brought the Arwing's armaments to attack mode. The wings extended midway between a full ninety degrees from the hull and a green lighted central HUB arose at the center of his glass, two target squares intersected by crosses with the enemy fighters on sight.

_"__Use standard guns. Spare the sapphirian and conserve your missiles. Charge right through them," _Peppy continued to give his last second advice as the visual of the bandits became larger and closer. _"Right down their throat. Don't stop for anything."_

This was it. Another second they would be in gun range. Fox's heart was pounding in anticipation, a mix of fear and excitement. His eyes were opened wide and refused to spare a single blink in the coming of the very moment of truth.

_Tally-ho…_

_"__Let em have it."_

With Peppy's words, he pressed in the trigger. A rapid fire stream of green light arose from both sides of his hull and shot outwards to join the volley sent forward by both Peppy and Slippy. They were immediately returned with opposing streams of red as the fighters began to loosen their own formation and fire frantically. Before passing through them dead-on, Fox saw one of the bandits' wings break loose and the craft suddenly detonate into a shower of sparks and flames. The sound of it exploding blew past the Arwing's RAA (real-time audio amplifier) just enough to convince Fox it was dead just as they passed by. The quick, dazzling visual sent his heart jumping from his chest, but he managed to stay composed with a tight clutch on the throttle.

_"__They're scattered," _said Peppy. _"Break formation and engage."_

_ "__Forget the _five count_ from before," _Slippy added, quickly. _"There's gotta be at least ten of them!"_

Peppy took a sharp turn around to the right while Slippy followed with a well coordinated left. Fox lowered his throttle enough for him to bring the ship up in a halfway loop. He followed with a quick boost of speed down his previous wake to where the bandits had begun to fly separately like a swarm of rats out for blood. The space around had turned into an instant light show, a mix of green and red flashes emitting from the dogfight unleashed. Fox forced his thumb back down on the trigger and began firing into two incoming crafts. They fired back and he saw their lasers fly just feet away from the cockpit. They flew by close enough that Fox managed to see inside one of the cockpits to where a pilot sat strapped in the flesh. The very glimpse caused him to gasp. He suddenly remembered the fact these weren't just mere hunks of scrap he was trying to destroy – they were men like him.

_"__Stay alert. Watch your six."_

Two individual blasts banged through the space and Fox turned in time to see Peppy flying past two floating rubble heaps still burning excess fuel. The hare's fighter didn't spare a moment of celebration, but rather turned and began mercilessly engaging a third target. To the opposite side, there was another explosion and Fox heard Slippy chanting into the frequency.

_"__Yipee, baby! First kill of my career! Think I shot down that sniper?"_

_ "__Don't get cocky," _Peppy quickly came back. _"I count seven left."_

Several red streams suddenly whizzed by his glass causing Fox to break his trance and witness a bandit buzz him from above. Seeing a chance, he turned sharp, and thanks to the superb maneuverability of the Arwing, he came right onto the rear of the fighter.

_"__I see him, Fox," _Peppy's voice entered the scene. _"You've already got him beat. Take the shot."_

The bandit in his sights was obviously panicking being he suddenly attempted a sharp evasive turn which Fox foiled and continued to follow like a ticked-off wasp from behind. His thumb on the trigger was stiff and hesitant. The sight of the bandit's face from before clogged the blood flow running from his brain and caused his entire right arm to go stiff. He continued to follow, but as the seconds passed along with his growing breathing and the sweat beginning to moisten his brow, he couldn't manage to give a single trigger-pressure.

_"__It's do or die, Fox. Take the shot!"_

Fox blinked past his wavering pause and gritted his teeth. But the moment he finally managed to fire the Arwing's guns, screeches broke across the cockpit. Several red flashes passed overhead, one landing straight into the right wing causing the craft to rattle.

"Damn!" he cursed aloud as his original fire missed the bandit ahead. "I'm hit and I've got one on my tail!"

_"__Sit tight, kid, I'm coming."_

Peppy had disengaged his current target and began to redeploy. This whole time Fox was refusing to leave his own target, despite the fighter attacking him was following close on his tail. There was suddenly another stream of hot red that rushed just short of doing any real damage to his wings, but succeeded in breaking Fox's overall self-control.

"Lousy _sonofa—"_

What happened that second was beyond Fox's comprehension. His hands released the throttle and suddenly brought the nose of the ship up into an instant stall. The force of the stop coupled with the power of gravity diffusion caused the craft to rapidly rise, allowing the attacking bandit to pass below without a clue of what happened. His hands instantly brought the ship back in control with a throttle boost and sped right up to their rear of his previous antagonist. There was no longer a cell of hesitation present inside his body. In fact, the moment the attacking bandit was at the center of his reticule, Fox instantly pulled the trigger. The volley of green fire landed perfectly on target, each laser projectile stabbing crude holes into the rusty frame of the V-shaped fighter. The power of the attack made short work of the older craft, along with Fox's original target still flying a straight path dead ahead. The perfectly placed bursts ignited both ships like gigantic firecrackers, their hulls exploding and sending shrapnel slicing across space. Fox soared past their flames like a bird through a cloud.

The very idea of being killed in his first fight caused his mind to darken and his body to grow tense. His teeth were bared like the fangs of a vicious predator having its life become threatened by its own prey. The thought of it disgusted him and soon he found himself more furious than overjoyed for getting his first two fighter kills. He caught visual of another fighter evading several blasts from Slippy's guns. When it tried to loop-d-loop to escape the onslaught, Fox had accelerated just in time to come up on the ship's tail. The frame of the ship was outlined in electronic red lines while the target reticule was directly over its right wing. Firing a short burst, the shots hit their marks perfectly and tore the wing off the fighter and sent it spiraling into a swirl of fire.

_"__He's on me, I can't shake him off!" _Slippy's voice suddenly echoed into the frequency.

Fortunately for Slippy, he was flying deeper into the playing field and right into Fox's sight. And fortunately for _Fox,_ the drive that had begun to fuel his veins with the same sensation that had helped him save the toad on several furry occasions – all of it was back and making him feel truly unstoppable.

Slippy was flying directly ahead, now with two different bandits on his trail. It was simple mathematics at first glance, but at this very moment, it was pure instinct that brought Fox to turn in a precise one hundred and eighty degree half-circle some distance from where Slippy continued his course. It couldn't have landed out any better. Fox was soon flying directly head-on into Slippy with the bandits behind in full view. Slippy had dove down just as he caught sight of his sudden charge. The split second the bandits were exposed and only seconds away from passing by, Fox opened up another storm of green and saw the cockpit of the first fighter become engulfed in fire and the second craft suddenly float by in two separate halves. It was transformed into the biggest blast yet once its severed fuel storage shook hands with a couple lucky sparks.

The fury of the skirmish had dimmed down with the decline of players on the field. Fox was staring around the glass, glazed eye, not bothering to use the radar, but relying solely on his own naturally grown senses to continue the hunt. He suddenly spotted the last two remaining fighters just as they had begun to turn away and accelerate away into the distance.

_Cowards_

Fox was still acting completely on impulse. He turned and began to boost past the wake of the fighters, soon beginning to close the distance once he brought the Arwing's limbs down from attack mode and unleashed its full speed.

_"__Fox!" _

Peppy's voice yelled into the radio, at first coming through muffled and hazy until Fox began to feel his hearing return back to normal.

_"__Fox, do not engage those ships!" _the hare yelled again. _"Let them go. This tangle's over."_

His body and mind were returning back to a comfortable state and Fox finally gave a blink of his dry eyes. He dropped his stare from the glass and felt himself look down into the space below. The entire time he was remembering the _last_ time Peppy had tried to stop his lonely charge into the unknown. The memory of Pigma's murderous glare loosened Fox's fingers and the Arwing gradually began to slow.

It wasn't long after he gave up his pursuit that the devil in question may have just made another surprise appearance. Ahead, there were two separate bursts of red laser fire, but of a different energy source, not of the same shade of color used by the bandits. These bursts came from a single ship, one that Fox suddenly took notice of sitting like a silent spider in the blackness. Its deadly accuracy proved fatal for the escaping bandits. Their crafts were instantly vaporized and reduced to space dust.

Fox was in another state of shock while viewing the craft sit still in the distance, either to examine or challenge him to a duel. But it proved even stranger as it ignited its engines and flew away, leaving its two victims floating dead in its place.

_"__Did you see that?"_ Slippy's voice returned from silence as his face in the video screen was frozen and wide-eyed. _"Fox?"_

"Yeah," he quickly answered, still watching the speck of a craft fly away like a miniature star. "I saw it." He soon allowed his fascination to pass with the departure of the mystery spectator. "You alright over there, Slip?"

The toad laughed in a winded breath. _"Still breathing… and yet again… it's by your will that I keep surviving this assassin dogshit."_

Fox laughed back, but his smile soon faded as the events of the brawl started to return to him like instant flashbacks. The reminiscence of the ferocity he felt from before was like a first dose of a special heroin – the memories of it just made him wish there was more of it to be experienced.

He gasped as he felt shivers rattle his skeleton. He allowed his hands to lift from the controls and fold in front of his chest, trying to ward away the cold. The thought of drifting in space made him feel cold.

The Arwing continued to sit alone within the void, slowly rolling along its axis, resting peacefully under the eyes of a thousand stars.

* * *

They docked one ship at a time. Fox volunteered to be the last despite his ship was the only one to have suffered a hit from the enemy's laser fire. Thanks to the Arwing's unique armor, the damage was nothing, just a blast mark that left a smudge on the paintjob.

The process of landing back into the launch pad was considerably trickier than taking off. Hovering before the open tunnel, the fighter was forced to back up and place itself into the crane harness that originally took it out. After tedious thrusts and adjustments, Fox managed to clip his wings into the harness and deactivated his engine. The "hum" slowly wore away like a giant sigh. He was soon being transported past the docking bay and back into the hangar. Peppy and Slippy had already begun disembarking their own crafts below.

The crane lowered him onto his separate service lift and detached itself. The lift softly plummeted to ground floor and Fox pulled the lever to open his cockpit. A hiss of air rushed to the outside past the ventilation and upon successful equalization, the glass opened and Fox once again felt his ears pop. He took a breath of relief while pulling himself out from his seat. His legs were considerably wobbly this moment as he took a foothold atop his left wing.

Slippy was laughing at the foot of his ship, clapping his hands in joy. "The eagle of death has landed in style," he joked. "Took you a little long getting here, but can't argue with being fashionably late."

"Funny, Slip." Fox hopped down to the floor, almost falling to his ass thanks to his weakly balance.

"Major adrenaline rush," Slippy explained past another chuckle. "Cuts of blood to the extremities. Gets kinda cold in a certain special area, doesn't it?"

Fox rubbed the fur at his shoulders. His snout occasionally twitched as he fought through another strain of shivers.

"It becomes a delicacy after your first few runs." Peppy limped in on the two of them, rubbing his wrists that were nearly free of their original scabs. "Helps you realize you're still alive, that you haven't squared yourself yet with the devil. Twenty runs later, it'll be just about gone. You should cherish it while it lasts."

Fox watched as Peppy approached him in particular. His face was resolute in the beginning, similar to a stone cold drill sergeant about to shove some fresh greenhorn into the mud. But as seconds ticked away and he just stood, Peppy eventually loosened his face and took on a broad grin.

"Cherish the win, ace," he said and offered his hand.

Fox grinned back and shook his hand. But as they shook, he noticed something pressing between Peppy's palm and his. Taking a grip with his fingers, he pulled back his hand and looked down to find he was holding two separate silver coated badges shaped into the Valkryie Fox with **SF** engraved at their centers.

Peppy was still grinning. "Saying you're part of the team isn't the same as _being_ a part of the team. You've earned that right."

Fox looked up and expressed a serious expression of thanks taking the offer as the greatest honor he's ever been given, and being presented by his father's old wingman made it feel ever more special. Turning to the side, he beckoned his chin for Slippy to step forward. When the toad was standing before him, Fox mimicked Peppy in the same fashion of presenting the second badge. When Slippy accepted the reward, his lips smiled grandly and he nodded several times in appreciation.

"Nothing beats initiation like a trial-by-fire," Peppy spoke through a chuckle.

Fox pocketed his badge and looked back to the row of Arwings. They were beautiful in his eyes. Individually, they were sharp and lethal like daggers able to cut through any obstacle in one swell swoop. Yet with the four of them together, they formed a spectacular masterpiece. One Arwing alone was a challenge to be reckoned with – an Arwing manned by an ace pilot was twice the challenge. But an entire elite squad of _four…_

That number caused Fox to think back to recent history.

"So what's next on the agenda?" Slippy asked once he had gleefully pinned his own badge to his jumpsuit collar.


	12. Chapter 11

**11 -**

"All I'm saying is we should consider adding more onto the crew not just for bettering our chances with Pigma but for the good of the team."

"Based on what?" Peppy immediately came back, not sounding at all convinced. "Personal preference? Odds versus evens?"

"We have four ships with only three pilots," Fox explained. "Odds mean one of us is left without a wingman. That's enough to justify recruiting a fourth."

The bridge was basking itself under the blue glow of flashing terminals and the serene darkness of space past the glass shield. Peppy was sitting at ease in the gunner's seat while Fox stood between him and the helm. Rob was sitting silently nearby, adjusting several bolts along one of his wrists.

"Rob, please do something about these lights," said Peppy, annoyingly, while rolling his eyes up towards the murky ceiling where a power shortage appeared to be affecting the bridge's lighting.

_"__Affirmative."_

The moment the android spoke, a sudden excess of air busted past its confines and caused the current bolt he was screwing into his wrist to pop and fly off like a bullet. His claw-like hand went limp and hung at an awkward angle.

_"__Belay previous response. Personal maintenance is required."_

"Where is Slippy?" Peppy murmured in a deep tone, clearly all-around annoyed in his own bleak attitude.

"Look," Fox brought the original subject back onto the stand, "I understand the benefits of keeping a spare fighter around, I do. But given the situation at hand I think we can 'spare the spare' and 'go for the four'."

"We originally had six ships." Peppy leaned forward from his seat to the room's left hemisphere and rested his forearms against his thighs. "Why do you think that is? Everybody had a spare just in case, worse comes to worst, we had to abandon one."

"Slippy can perform any repairs and keep all four up to good health."

"Did I forget to mention the Arwing isn't just some junker built off of kitchen utensils and duck tape? Everything on those birds is unique, down to the last bolt."

"Slippy's already mentioned we have enough spare parts on board to build an entire squadron."

_"__Slippy, Slippy, Slippy…" _Peppy shook his head. "Relying on one man to keep five ancient ships, the Great Fox included, up to full working order while still upholding the position as an active pilot? Please…"

"Oh, is that what you think?" Fox frowned and felt his temper begin to scratch at his brain. "Well, that's an even _better_ reason for getting a fourth body on board in case our tech expert can't manage to fulfill every bit of his responsibilities. And the last person I want strapped into a cockpit is some bucket-headed android."

A sudden green light blinked overhead the back entrance and the doors parted. Slippy walked in with the sound of water dripping from his blue mechanic jumpsuit down onto the floor. He appeared completely soaked from his red "S" cap down to his boots that squeaked with each step.

"What happened?" Fox asked after realizing the dampness wasn't just mere work-sweat.

The toad sighed aloud while bringing his cap down from his head and twisted it to remove some of the excess water. "Apparently there was a 'leak' down in engineering," he explained. "One of the backup cooling units near the engine compartment cracked and flooded the entire hall. Had to take a swim to get back to middeck."

"It's not serious, is it?"

"Nah, luckily the metal down there isn't rustable and I'll be able to drain it out through the filtration vents." Slippy slapped his cap back onto his head before looking up and began watching both of them with his bug-like eyes. "So… how're things here holding up?"

Fox glanced around, at first not seeing anything out of the ordinary except for the lights. He suddenly remembered the cause. "Oh, right. You think you could do something about these ceiling lights? The electrical must've got rowed up in the last attack."

"Child's play." Slippy moved on towards the mainframe lined all along the helm. He soon arrived and lied upon his back and slid beneath the ledge with pliers in his hand. "The work never ends…"

Fox gave Peppy a look which endorsed his previous argument.

"Your father originally wanted three men since it kept us flexible and inconspicuous. And not to mention we had _reasons_ for keeping our numbers low. A fourth man is only going to make things more difficult." Peppy suddenly cracked into a chuckle of disbelief. "And the person you're suggesting is ridiculous. Do you have any idea what a pirate's three favorite pastimes are? Rape, pillage, and _betrayal."_ He raised one finger for each pastime. "The word 'decency' doesn't apply to their breed."

"Apparently this guy's a way better pilot than he is a pirate," Fox argued on. "He's proved that much so far."

"Anybody who's able to fight off Meteo security is bound to be something special," Slippy added from beneath the mainframe. "And I wouldn't wager a low ranking buccaneer who gets backstabbed by his entire gang to be a 'gifted pirate'."

Peppy continued to give a blank stare towards Fox, almost completely uncompromising.

"I know it's a risk and I've already thought through the different scenarios." Fox continued to stand with his arms crossed. "But we know where he's going and we know his name and there's a chance when we find him he'll be willing to join up in exchange for work and protection."

"And you expect me to go along with this obediently without question?" Peppy returned, his face mimicking an old smart-alike.

Fox returned his expression with a deep glare. "Damned straight I do."

Peppy's all-knowing complexion began to churn into something ironically content and pleased, a smile slowly rising in the corner of his lips. "That's the McCloud I know."

Fox eventually loosened his glare and gave an approving nod. "Thanks, Pep."

"You'll do good, skipper."

There was a sudden joggle of lights in the ceiling above accompanied by the sound of electricity sparking past open wires. Slippy below the mainframe had begun to convulse and stutter rapidly past his lips before the golden lights above began to shine clearly without a flicker.

"You shoulda dried off first," said Peppy as Slippy pushed himself out from beneath the mainframe, huffing and puffing.

"Do I smell roasted frog?" Fox turned his snout to the side and exposed a corner of his fangs. "Smells… _good."_

"I _don't_ like that joke," Slippy answered after a groan of exhaustion. "Didn't I make that clear the first time? And for the sake of my unborn children, I ain't sticking around if that carnivorous crap turns out to be fact."

"Don't worry yourself, my slimy little friend," Fox answered after an evil giggle. "You'll know the answer soon enough."

Slippy groaned a second time while laying his head back to rest on the hard floor, his skin occasionally twitching from static electricity.

* * *

"I assure you, ambassador, the situation will be dealt with smoothly," Wolf spoke with professional calm, but his eyes continued to glare at the silk covered ape through the holoscreen. "All I ask is your _cooperation_ and—"

"To further enhance your sadistic pleasure as a killer?" the ambassador interrupted. "I fail to see any evidence to support your empty guarantees."

The room was dark and lucid with the blue luminescence leaking from the holographic images of a line of six fine dressed apes who sat upon desks before Wolf like a board of review.

Wolf continued to glare at the most talkative of the ambassadors. "Have I once failed this nation in fulfilling a contract?"

"This nation has eyes that see past your affiliations and recognize your past dealings on the outside to be quite… _irrational."_ The ambassador sniffed his flat nostrils and shuffled across several papers passed to him by his fellow representatives along the table. "Twelve years ago, you led a team of thirty armed men into the Sestas Colony on Zoness in pursuit of a single bounty. You ordered the decimation of the entire colony as means to force your target out of hiding. Do you deny of any of this?"

"None, ambassador."

"So in which case, you do not deny ordering the executions of over three hundred colonists, and even afterwards, you failed to capture your primary target. In fact, according to the report, you… 'allowed' him to escape." The ambassador removed his spectacles and allowed them to slip from his fingers and fall onto the holographic table. He started to rub his eyes with his wrinkly finger tips. "And still you deny none of this."

"You are correct, ambassador."

The line of representatives turned hush, occasionally glancing to one another like dumb chimps looking for help in deciphering an undecipherable puzzle. Wolf continued to silently study their faces, his own face as still and absolute as a stone bust.

"Two weeks after the massacre," the ambassador continued, "you track down the target in question to a deep space freighter stop within the Meteo Asteroid Belt. You succeeded in eliminating the target after personally—"

"Ambassador," Wolf interrupted this time. "I fail to see how any of this is relevant with the current contract."

"This has _everything_ to do with the current contract!" the ambassador lashed out, pounding his fist against the desk within the hologram. "If a speedy resolution cannot be gained within a reasonable extent of time, we will not further waste our resources funding another one of your psychotic pleasure cruises. We will take matters into our own hands and rely on our own weapons to gain what success you ultimately enjoy eluding."

"It was a shame how the first alternative you sent was such a pathetic excuse of an amateur." Wolf giggled from behind his closed snout. "Really, a buzzard in a black cloak? Hardly what I call a professional."

"Ambassador Carlyle," the chimp sitting at the far left of the table spoke up. "Enough of this pointless bickering of grievances. The Lord of Houses has already given his consent for the contract to be given leeway for freedom of conduct."

The talkative ambassador sat back while dramatically tossing the report file upon his desk over the side, the individual papers vanishing into static once they floated behind the transmission field.

"Mr. O'Donnel," the chimp to the far left, who wore the standard dark velvet gown of a governmental executor, took charge of the exchange. "It has come to the attention of the Lord of Houses that Fox McCloud has come under possession of a certain cruiser of an unknown origin. Have you come into contact with this vessel?"

"I have."

"Then you are aware that the scale has been tilt predominantly in his favor. For this purpose, we are requisitioning four experimental Wolven air superiority fighters to your disposal."

"Four fighters, executor?"

The dark clothed chimpanzee adjusted himself in his seat, unnervingly. "Our Lord of Houses has requested that you allow one of our own to accompany you on the remainder of the hunt."

"And has the Lord of Houses forgotten that I don't work under governmental supervision?"

"He isn't government," the executor explained. "Not yet, at least. His name is Andrew, bloodline of the Emperor."

"And here I was believing he was just another lonely tyrant without an heir."

"Nephew, not heir. He's currently enrolled in Nightwing School and has so far shown exceptional promise in aerial combat. He will be temporarily redeployed under your command and will regularly report in to me of your progress."

"Do I have a choice in this matter, executor?"

"As always, Wolf, a request by our Lord of Houses is never what one of simple mind would assume to be a 'request'… but rather a threat of death if whatever the request isn't completely carried through."

Wolf released a light sigh past his nostrils without moving the rest of his face. Rising from his chair, he gave a slight, easy bow of his head in good faith towards the chairmen.

"Mr. O'Donnel?" the executor spoke up before he could leave. "I would suggest you consider compromising from your traditional non-direct style of conduct. For the sake of your wellbeing, Wolf, that which you deserve, I hope you consider doing so."

"Let it be said, Victor," Wolf spoke his last words before concluding the meeting. "Not all Venomians laugh while pulling the trigger."

* * *

He didn't like this one bit. The very idea of it sparked a hidden stick of dynamite in his head which Peppy couldn't manage to find. It went against everything what James emphasized in the beginning, a certain style of conduct that became the team's regular trademark: the three musketeers of profit and camaraderie. Where's the sense in ruining something that worked so well in the past? Where was the sense in taking the word of youth over bona fide experience?

_Times are a changin, old man._

When did he ever get old? The question filled his head along with each sip of booze. He sat alone at the lounge bar working through a bottle of brandy from his personal stash, thinking of the days he used to regularly share a bottle with the only son of a gun in the galaxy he could ever trust – back when he never drank alone.

How could—how _did _it come to this? An old man drinking, alone.

James always knew what to do. Peppy was guilty to the last breath for relying on the man to lead the pack through every endeavor. Not saying he never bothered coming up with a plan of his own – that came with instinct. But to stand beside a man who solely existed to keep moving forward without a moment of loiter, it was only natural to abide by the old fox's command. Both of them shared their moments of butting heads. But in the end it all turned out for the better. They became wiser, stronger with each victory, prouder… and older.

_How does it end for the ol' hare, then?_

"How did you beat me to it, you old bastard?" he murmured, rubbing his palm over his damp forehead. He was hot from his descent into the bottle, but tried to ignore the numb, musty taste of the drink. He was already well attuned to the tang, so much it seemed to pass straight through his taste buds and find its usual empty corner down in his stomach.

"Follow your boy?" he suddenly asked, nudging his chin up into the air, as if to acknowledge an invisible angel loitering nearby. "Follow the boy, eh? _Sure,_ why not? See where it takes us, right? Just like how I risked my own following your crazy tail around. And you getting killed is the thanks I get?"

Peppy flipped his fingers and tapped the shot glass before him, causing it to fall over. A sliver of what was left spilled over the edges and onto the sleek counter. He took an immediate stand from his stool, wobbling for a moment from the sudden pressure on his leg. He cursed silently while gripping the brace, biting down so hard that his teeth could be heard grinding into one another.

_Don't push yourself, old timer._

"It should've been me, you self-righteous asshole." He raised his chin and took a deep, shaking breath, trying to calm his rising temper. "You never thought things through enough. Forget you had something to lose? What's gonna become of your sonny now, eh? How well do you expect _me_ to handle this?"

He shook his head, trying to wipe away the thoughts clogging his brain. What was he even doing? Drunk talking a ghost? He had enough of this superstitious garbage. Pulling his flight coat for a tighter fit, he began to walk for the stern end of the ship, not entirely sure where he was going or what he planned to do once he got there.

* * *

Peppy stumbled into the service elevator and took it to the lower deck. From there, he tried his best to walk steadily through the long cargo tunnel and into the hangar. The sight of the lights above and the steel plating at his feet brought him back to the days when he would be running alongside James to board the Wings with Pigma bringing up the rear in his lumbering form. The tunnel would become a yellow cylinder and an alarm would be echoing along the walls, and soon the hangar would arise from the following corner and the fighters would be sitting inside, armed to the teeth and prepared for another bloody sortie.

The moment he arrived to the corner, the Arwings were there, set atop their lifts like trophies upon pedestals. Slippy was ducked behind the one closest to the maintenance garage on the opposite wall. The thought occurred to him and Peppy could barely believe the toad was still awake. As far as he was aware, the technical wizard had been awake long before they found him three days ago.

He stepped up beside the fighter and saw Slippy lying beneath the belly. He tapped his knuckles upon the hull, but the signal proved to not even faze Slippy, and Peppy, rolling his eyes, kicked his boot upon his leg and caused a spasm to erupt throughout the mechanic's dormant form. He rolled out upon a Gurnee and pulled those earphones to his music player out from his microscopic ears.

"You ever get the feeling fate had a reason for giving you guys small ears?" Peppy opened up with a question. "Keep blasting that junk and you're bound to go deaf by your early twenties."

Slippy chuckled and loosened the tension in his body. Casually rising to his feet, he dusted his shoulders and sheathed a flashlight into his belt. "My mum used to get on my case over that," he answered. "I don't know, I guess I just developed a sense of pride in being the 'odd egg' of the bunch."

"You still got family back on Lilya?"

"A few, yeah." Slippy removed his cap and scratched his bald head. "Twelve brothers, twice as many sisters. Smaller family by the home world standard, but my parents never seemed to mind the stares we got whenever we took a vacation to the Lakes."

Peppy shrugged. The number didn't much surprise him.

"So… how about you?" Slippy asked after a momentary silence. "Brothers and sisters?"

"Last in the litter." Peppy leaned his shoulder against the fighter's wing. "Something around sixteen bucks and does. All died from the plague that hit Clover fifty years back."

Slippy cringed and hiccupped a croak. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"I was just barely young enough to be called a kitten so I only remember what the priests told me at the orphanage," Peppy explained, secretly not very caring for the subject. "Parents gave me up; got myself drafted when I was sixteen; left the service after three tours on Titania; signed on working protection runs with feline pilgrim convoys, and eventually left that and went permanent in the private sector."

A moment of dumb silence later and Slippy popped into another chuckle. "Life in a nutshell, eh?"

"Beats building up suspense. Don't want you thinking I was born in a test tube and brought up to vaporize bad guys for the government."

Slippy laughed and shook his head. He eventually settled and took a breath, suddenly going silent as something obviously crossed his mind.

"How're you doing so far?" Peppy asked, benevolently.

"Swell, thanks." Slippy suddenly bowed his head and sniggered, as if laughing to a joke he heard in recent history. "More than swell, actually. I mean, I expected to find some amazing stuff once I finally got to peek up their skirts, but these bunnies are legends in the flesh!" Slippy exclaimed, looking back to where his Arwing sat still and at peace. "The design is state-of-the-art. Every screw and bolt is completely alien and _ancient,_ but somehow in perfect shape. Even the entire G-diffuser is something out of science fiction!"

Peppy looked over towards the other three fighters. "They were a sight back when we first found them."

"You _found_ them? How?"

"Trust me, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Long story short, it wasn't easy getting a hold of them."

Slippy frowned, appearing disappointed but compliant. "I bet you guys have plenty of good stories from back in the day."

"Did," Peppy corrected. "Just some more water under the bridge, now."

Another bout of silence wrestled past their voices and allowed the deep, soft hum of the Great Fox's turbines to rumble past the walls and into their ears. Slippy was standing with his chin lowered, his eyes absorbing the floor. Peppy folded his arms, trying to decide whether or not his conversation skills killed the mood entirely.

"Peppy?" Slippy finally spoke up. "Can I ask you something? About the mission?"

"I'm all ears." Peppy smirked and flicked his rabbit features. "Literally."

"Ok, then." The toad took a deep breath into his small nostrils, all around appearing reluctant to reveal whatever thoughts were tormenting his conscious. "It's about, well… Fox."

"What about him?"

Slippy looked up, his eyes expressing some concern. "What did he do before all of this? I remember him mentioning he was in a boarding school on Corneria, but for what? Didn't he end up working for you guys?"

Peppy readjusted his stance, trying to take pressure off his bad leg. "Father thought it was best he stick out of this field and try out an honest life with an honest pay. Private sector's no real place for a kid his age."

Slippy rested his back against the hull and folded his arms, his expression putting off more doubt. "This assassin," he explained. "What happened today with the pirates. I mean, I've already lost count of the number of times that 'kid' saved my head from getting blown off."

Peppy couldn't help but smile. "Luck," he answered, simply.

"No offense intended, but dog_shit. _I may have been the guy who spent all his sociables hiding in the nearest corner, but I've seen magicians perform like crap compared to what this guy's pulled off. Believe me – luck has nothing to do with foreseeing a bullet crashing past another man's skull."

"May as well call it magic, then," Peppy answered.

"So… what is he then? Some sort of lab-bred psychic?"

"He's gifted, that's all." Peppy rested his hand upon his fighter's wing, doing all he could to keep pressure off his leg. "No better way of putting it, really."

Slippy sulked in his stance, appearing unconvinced and finally showing signs he was in fact tired from no sleep.

"You ever read into the Venom Conspiracy?" Peppy held back the silence with another question.

Slippy shrugged. "A little bit. Just what they told us in school. Most of it revolved around Corneria and Cornelius Pepper pushing Andross back to…" Slippy suddenly stopped and looked up to Peppy with a quick little revelation. "Wait a minute, weren't you there?"

"What'd the history books mention about us?"

"Well, it mostly talked about James McCloud leading two other men and liberating several worlds outside the confederacy."

"And what about _how_ we did it?"

"Fly in a straight line and blow up every monkey who crosses your sights?" Slippy shrugged. "Damned if I know."

Peppy frowned. "There were seven of us at the start of the war," he elaborated. "Three died in the invasion of Katina. The fourth died from his wounds after the siege of Fortuna. It was at Katina when we saw our first major engagement. The capital city was just about completely on fire and half their garrison was already wiped out. We didn't have a clue of what kind of hornet's nest we were flying into, but it left one permanent mark on those of us who came out alive."

Slippy was obviously fascinated with his growing story, wide-eyed and completely silent. Peppy couldn't tell whether or not he was even breathing.

"We were young, fresh, stupid wannabe warriors anxious of making a name for ourselves. We got the contract and headed in and found ourselves completely without support. We were swarmed the moment we first entered the atmosphere. Three of our buddies died in the first minute. The four of us who managed to make it for the surface were able to regroup and counterattack." Peppy felt his eyes drift back towards the Arwing, a shallow smirk causing his long whiskers to twitch. "That day I witnessed a boy become a man, the same man who'd go on to grow his name to where everybody knew him out of legend."

Peppy watched Slippy finally blink and break past his statue-like stillness.

"James McCloud," the toad confirmed, lightly.

"People can't understand what makes a man a hero until they witness it with their own eyes. The feats that man was able to pull off were more than just spectacular—they were biblical." Peppy continued to look to the Arwing like an artist onto his canvas. "They were unreal, impossible at first till he managed disprove the odds. Can't say we did much apart from watching his flanks and mopping up whatever was left. He shot down hundreds of ships at the seat of that cockpit, a regular killing machine running on sheer adrenaline. It took one battle to finally open up this hidden power and once it was finally unleashed… he became unstoppable."

Slippy remained quiet, soaking in the words like a child jumping to the conclusion that fairy tales are sources of nonfiction. He looked towards the Arwing stationed on the far right, the same one the "boy" had flown before.

"I've lived to witness some incredible things," Peppy explained, solemnly. "Seeing a boy shoot down five planes during his first glimpse of real combat is unbelievable. But it's been said that some men were meant for greater things. In times when the world becomes desperate for hope, those who were originally meant to be gods suddenly come out of hiding, and with their actions they would inspire all life and bring new meaning to the notion of possibility."

Peppy dropped into silence once his word tank ran dry, feeling content that his message was clearly expressed. Slippy finally managed to budge a muscle and return to life.

"Wow," Slippy spoke in a sigh, appearing to be suffering a mix of awe-struck and admiration. "That's, eh… really poetic. You ever think about writing a memoir or something?"

Peppy felt his arms immediately go limp and drop to his sides. He felt his face droop lower and a sigh escape his lips. "I might just have to."

_Old drunken men say the darnest things…_

"Let's just hope Fox is one of these—how would you put it—_demigods?" _Slippy shrugged, suddenly appearing not to be all too fascinated in the subject of fairy tales. "If a maniacal emperor really wants us dead, it wouldn't hurt to have some destined angelical badass watching our backs for the next few months."


	13. Chapter 12

**12 -**

A pitch black horizon marked the endless space ahead. The Arwing flew free of any bounds, slicing across the void with an endless plain of steel below its altitude.

Fox felt the dryness in his eyes begin to toy with his focus. He tried to ignore it, refusing to spare a blink. Keeping his attention forward past the nose of the fighter, an electronic voice broke through the engine hum.

_"__Stage one complete,"_ it spoke with a female-oriented tone. _"Would you like to continue to stage two?"_

"Reset the program," said Fox. "Raise the difficulty and skip forward to stage three."

An electronic hiss echoed into the cockpit and the space outside began to transform like stacks of rectangular towers. The flat ground below changed shape and began to resemble polygonal mountains shaped into metallic cubes. Lying in his course there was a flash of light and what appeared to be a trail of levitating octagons that gleamed in the appearance of giant blue and gold rings.

_"__Advanced training mode begins," _said the electronic voice.

Maneuvering the Arwing through the first set of rings, Fox kept a tight grip on each handle, trusting his reflexes to guide the ship past each sharp turn. The repetition of rings appearing from out of nowhere grew faster with each successful pass. Soon the course had begun to test the very capabilities of the fighter. Fox found that he was being forced to rely more and more on the Arwing's flexibility to make it successfully through every track. The thought of it disturbed him. His father once managed to perform past the limits of physics and aerodynamics. He needed to be able to do the same.

Through the entire course he could feel his body becoming one with the ship. Every inch of plating was like his skin while every wire beneath the armored shell was circulating his own blood. His senses had become so tuned with the craft that he could almost feel the coldness of space brushing past the wings. _The zone._ This was where he wanted to be—where he _needed_ to be. This was the pinnacle of freedom in his book, flying through unparallel space fast enough that nobody could catch him. He was instantly hooked on the mind-grabbing sensation. It was no mystery whether or not he belonged here at the controls of a starfighter. It was fact that his body and mind required this to survive. He was _born_ for this.

_"__Training sequence expired," _the artificial voice suddenly interrupted the zone. _"Automatic power-save mode commencing."_

_Stupid computer,_ he thought. The fighter had begun to slow and soon came to a hover over the rubric cube peninsula, which was already shifting back to a flat silvery plain. The program was shutting down and he couldn't help but groan aloud in disappointment, like a child being forced to take a break from his videogames.

_"__Final session time recorded: _four_ hours, _twenty-seven_ minutes, and _fifty-two_ seconds."_

Fox couldn't help but feel surprised. It all made him feel like a child again. "Time flies when you're having fun," he spoke aloud.

_"__You're performance score is rated _Expert._ Well done, sir."_

"I did learn from the best."

Another hiss came through the cockpit and the cover had begun to rise and expose the outside. The room was glowing in a shower of white that drenched the small dome-shaped architecture. The area was completely empty disregarding the pod attached to the epicenter.

Fox arose and immediately felt the tautness in his muscles ache under sudden pressure. He had just come to realize exactly how long he had been cooked up in that simulator. The reality hit him hard along with the idea of sleep. Leaving the room behind, he entered the middeck hallway. It drowned in its usual green luminescence, with the occasional blue guide lights marking the floor below. The colors instantly reminded him of the Arwing's guns, the green standard armament along with the blue sapphirian alloy-generated super lasers. He thought back to their dazzling displays during the simulation, as well as during the fight with the raiders.

The actual skirmish itself had been a fading thought dwelling in some dark corner of his mind throughout the entire night. The reality of shooting down those bandits in such a merciless display didn't so much concern him. Why should he dwell around their deaths? Why should he even care that he killed five men, all of whom were originally trying to _kill him?_

_Shouldn't have come galloping forward in the first place, idiots._

Self-defense. Problem solved.

Or at least that's what he wanted to believe. It continued to toy with his conscious all the way to his room. As the ETA grew shorter and shorter with each step, he slowly began to gruel the expectations of another night in Dad's old quarters.

He tried not to think of it. It'd only make the nightmares worse.

* * *

The door parted in two halves and allowed him through. His eyes met darkness and instantly brought up a deep yawn in the back of his throat. But something wasn't the same. He wasn't so much _tired _that he needed sleep. In fact, the only thing he could feel was confusion.

It was as if a draft had begun to brush past his fur from the nearby window. He turned to look behind him where the door closed. Expecting to find darkness, he suddenly recoiled at a frightening pair of eyes glaring directly at him. A sudden hand lurched out and took an iron grip around his collar, throwing him back towards the desk on the opposite side of the room, left of the bed.

_Pigma, _his mind screamed into his head.

Reaching quickly down into the nearest desk drawer, he hoped to find something of use. To his miraculous luck, he felt the handle of a pistol and quickly rose it up and aimed the barrel to the shadow basking itself within the dark. Without hesitating, he pulled the trigger and brought about a flash of light that momentarily revealed the stranger, but not enough for him to gain a positive visual of Pigma's pinkish features. The shadow didn't budge despite Fox was a hundred percent positive his shot was dead-on. It soon began to step forward on heavy boots. It wasn't long until the head of the creature arose first into the bluish light piercing the observation window above the desk. The image sparked a sudden excess of shock that left Fox with empty lungs and a face bleeding with fear.

_My blessed son._

The words bled into his thoughts as painful as salt on an open wound. Accompanied by the man's face, the overall shock caused him to step back and slam into the desk. His jaw was dropped with his tongue dry like sandpaper, eyes fixed on a ghost standing in the flesh.

_What will become of my own son?_

* * *

His head instantly came rising up and Fox immediately recognized the soft surface pressing below his backside. He was sitting up in his bed, grabbing the fur at his scalp, on the brink of screaming out in terror.

_A nightmare,_ he assured himself inside his head. _Just another nightmare…_

The room was surprisingly not as dark and empty as it had been in his dream. The lights were on and there was somebody standing at the center of the floor – their identity brought more anger than surprise to Fox's unstable mood.

"Rob, what are you doing here?" he asked harshly to the android standing as dormant as a statue. "And no wacked-up visions. Give me a straight answer this time."

The robot adjusted its torso and appeared to look around for a moment, as if to check if the coast was clear. _"Apologies, sir. It is paramount that I speak with you informally, per orders from the commanding officer."_

Fox instantly turned dumb. "Commanding officer?"

_"__To clarify, _James McCloud,_ registered commander of _Star Fox."

Something wasn't right with the android. Fox remembered the dilemma back during his first time on the ship's bridge. Rob was speaking in third person, as if Fox wasn't here sitting right in front of him. "But, wait a minute," he spoke in confusion. "Aren't I the captain?"

_"__Affirmative. My spoken words indicated I was speaking in the form of past tense. The previous commanding officer has been deceased for approximately three weeks now."_

"Then who exactly do you think you're talking to?" Fox was next to brain-dead. The machine who originally claimed he was his dad had suddenly grown past the robotic BS and sprouted a brain inside that bucket he called a skull. "You thought I was somebody else back on the bridge and now you're saying you know who I really am?"

Rob blinked his cybernetic eye. _"Biological sensory system indicates you are _Fox McCloud, _son and heir to the former _James McCloud."

"So you knew this whole time." Fox shrugged. "Why the secrecy?"

_"__My programming dictated that I conceal this message from all eyes excluding _Fox McCloud._ My original actions were to execute my given protocol to the utmost of my abilities."_

"So you lied."

_"__That term only holds relevance to sentient beings. I am an artificial construct. In a proper explanation, I was acting within my programmed parameters."_

Fox allowed some air to pass through his cold nostrils. The never ending monotone of Rob's communicator was becoming a bother he couldn't manage to ignore.

_"__To evade any possible confusion," _Rob continued, _"the manner of the message was intended as a swaying method to emphasize the confidentiality of this exchange."_

Fox rubbed at a growing headache. "You've certainly succeeded in confusing the hell out of me."

_"__Apologies, sir. That was not a part of my original intentions."_

"Doesn't matter now, I guess." Looking to the right where the desk sat beneath the window, Fox remembered the first vision. "Who was it who spoke in the first message you showed me?"

"James McCloud_, your—"_

"Are there any other messages like it?"

Rob paused, shifting his motor systems and blinking his red eye, indicating he was in the middle of processing information. _"There are currently thirty seven completed entries and one unfinished entry in his personal log."_

"He recorded a journal?"

_"__His instructions were for me to document each entry and contain them until you arrived onboard and assumed command."_

A journal. The revelation sparked Fox with a sudden rise of hope. Unread letters written by his own father. Words of the dead man himself. "Which entry did you show me last night?"

_"__Entry one, recorded approximately one year and twenty-one days ago."_

The journal was obviously something newer. He never imagined his father to be the kind to record memories and ruminations. This whole time he assumed he kept his thoughts locked in an imaginary chest inside his brain, reserving his personal meditations to himself and himself alone.

But what suddenly began to spark him as even more concerning was the reality behind the claim. "He _knew_ I would end up here?" he asked, perplexed. "Are you saying he saw all of this coming before it even happened?"

_ "__I cannot answer that truthfully, sir,"_ Rob apologized. _"He spoke nothing of his own intentions."_

Rob had suddenly lifted one of his arms up towards his face and, to Fox's surprise, appeared to stab his one eye with the tip of his pincers. There was a sound that resembled a power drill than Rob lowered his hand again, revealing his face that was now decorated with a black hole below the forehead, his eye lying in his flat, spotless palm.

Upon being offered the eye that was attached to a rectangular computer chip, Fox accepted it, awkwardly. "I appreciate your willingness to dismember yourself for my benefit, Rob, but what exactly do you expect me do with this?"

_"__Every entry has been isolated to my perceptual sensory input," _Rob explained, no longer "blinking"._ "Simply apply the archive to a PDA unit and stare directly at the center of the peripheral core. You may view the log whenever you like at any time you desire, but I must emphasize your father's desire to refrain its existence to anybody else."_

Furthermore to Fox's bewilderment, Rob had turned away and seemingly begun to take his leave without another word.

"Are you sure you don't need this?" he asked, still holding the android's one eye.

_"__Affirmative. I can self-repair once I return to my post." _Rob began to take steady, robotic steps towards the exit._ "I am also programmed with complete schematics of _Great Fox _and can travel accordingly through every section without—"_

It was in that second that a clang echoed past the point where he bumped his clunky body into the closed doorway. Upon nearly losing his balance, he steadily recovered and flawlessly continued on through once the doors were parted.

Fox shook his head in pity. _"Artificial intelligence,"_ he murmured.

* * *

The air had turned breathless without any more disturbing drafts and the misty light that had been illuminating it during his dream had become a reality.

The red robotic eye sat dormant on the desk attached to a small PDA. It was staring, pondering quietly what was to become of itself. Fox stared back, his face as blank as his thoughts. The chair below him spared not a single creak as he continued to sit frozen with his tail lying limp over the edge. He couldn't quite tell whether or not he was hesitating, or if he was simply anticipating what secrets were to be found buried in the depths of the sleeping eye.

In the end, he was frightened. Something about watching the eye took him back to his old position as a son under a prestigious war hero. This eye was more or less all what remained of what was once James McCloud. He couldn't even bear to ponder up a single legitimate thought.

It was just like every other encounter he experienced with the man in his later childhood, playing the role of the timid boy without the will to speak freely to one of the arguably greatest men in all of history.

He finally took a hold of the eye and looked at it some more. When he felt his eyes finally come to a blink, he reached over and opened the top drawer of the desk, laying the eye upon the bottom. But before he managed to close the drawer, something else caught his attention. At the bottom was a dark familiar shape. Reaching to grasp a hold, he pulled up his hand to reveal a pistol.

It was the same gun he remembered from his dream. But this was impossible. He had never even touched the desk before and knew nothing of what was hidden inside. If the dream had been real, it would've been just another strand of luck for reaching in on instinct and miraculously pulling up a loaded weapon. Everything from the dream was perfectly in place so much he even turned around and checked the closed door, for a moment expecting to be met by another visitor from beyond the grave.

There was a sudden beep from the light above the door that caused him to jump in his seat.

_"__Incoming priority message," _the female oriented voice that spoke during the training simulator returned to the intercom.

_"__Fox, it's Peppy,"_ the hare's voice stepped in. _"Get up to the bridge. You're gonna need to see this."_

He was staring dumbly at the intercom with the dream pistol still clasped in his palm. Shaking away the daze, he rose up and began his exit into the main hallway, rubbing the fur at the bridge of his snout, feeling another headache begin to dig back into his brain.

Dad's journal would have to wait. Fox already had his fill of supernatural conundrums.


	14. Chapter 13

**13 - **

Arriving to the bridge, Fox was met with an instant view past the viewport to where some hulking artificial mass floated dormant in the black depths.

"Looks like our search is already over," said Peppy from beside the helm where Rob continued to stand his post and man the controls.

"Looks more like our luck is still holding out," Slippy added from the gunner's seat left of the helm. "Guess who just turned up?"

"You're kidding." Fox stepped forward quickly to the helm to look out at what appeared to be some kind of ancient star port. It was polygonal in shape, appearing more like a gigantic slanted cross with each of the four corners emitting separate lightshows. A thick ring of dust orbited around its gravity shield, sparkling in the glow of the sun sitting far out in the distance like a lonely light bulb.

"How do we know he's there?" he asked.

"Rob ran a quick scan over the station," Peppy explained, lacking a certain portion of life in his voice. "Managed to pick up a positive ID on a security fighter currently registered to Meteo."

"You sure it's the same ship?"

"If I was an optimist I'd say it's a clear-cut deal. This here's the last place in the galaxy any of those rogue Cornerians would ever pay a visit. And only a pirate would be gullible enough to choose this for a pit stop."

"Where's 'here' exactly?" Fox looked back out to the station. Its very appearance spoke of something cold and lethal hiding beneath walls built off of an impenetrable, fortress-like frame.

"Four Blades Detention Center," Peppy finally answered after a pause, with a noticeable grudge hearable through his speech. "Lylat's prison for the criminally insane."

Slippy from his seat gradually folded his arms, preserving his body heat from an apparent chill all the while Fox continued to examine every visible inch of the station in morose fascination.

Peppy sighed aloud, as if to tell him, _"I told you so."_

* * *

The ship was approached by a duo of interceptors that led them in on their final approach, all the while in a nerving silence. The size of the station grew twice in grandeur up close, along with its icy, rusting evidence of prolonged exposure to subzero temperatures likely brought on before G-diffusion fields were introduced. The majority of its frame was brought up in a mix of stone and titanium like an impenetrable castle once pulled up from the ground of one ancient world and tossed into the stars to serve the role of a space station. Each of the four points was jagged like a spear point – hence the name "Four Blades", to Fox's figure.

Up close and personal it put off the perfect message a right prison would give to an unfamiliar passerby: dank, miserable, and isolated within a desolate abyss. The crusty ring of debris trailing around its axis only added onto its growing merciless reputation in Fox's eyes. Upon docking the Great Fox onto one of the "blades", a tunnel extended out like a snake catching whiff of approaching prey. It soon attached its open mouth to the ship's shoulder like a leech, and in time Peppy had opened the middeck hatchway and led the way out for Fox and Slippy at his rear.

"I'm guessing this is just another thoughtless leap over the edge," the toad spoke aloud, "or is there actually a plan this time?"

"Plan to improvise," Fox answered. "It's fared well for us this far. No reason in changing up tactics that work."

_"__Tactics,_ he says,_" _Slippy mocked, shaking away a growing smile. "You make it sound like we're desperados living it out in the badlands."

"For any man, desperation's a dark horse," Peppy added from the lead. "His intuition's a one hit wonder that can outgun any territory."

Fox glanced over to Peppy. There was always something interesting to be heard from him – metaphors were just a puzzling puzzle piece of his vocal forte.

"But best we prepare for a short stay," Peppy mentioned backwards to Fox, his eyes embellishing a mixture of suspicion and composure.

"You heard the man, Rob," Fox relayed the message into his ear mike. "Keep the engines warm."

_"__Affirmative," _the android responded through the frequency.

"What a dump." Slippy slid his fingertips over the grimy wall as they walked down the tunnel towards the station entrance. "I don't care how much they'd pay me to work here. These conditions suck worse than Meteo."

"You'd be giving up a godly sum." Peppy kept his eyes forward and locked on the station door at the tunnel's end, two guards standing by, one killing time through the butt of a cigarette. "Though it's healthy you ignore any work offers they may give you. Half their prospective employees usually go on and join the inmates on charges for lunacy."

_Terrific. More good news._

Fox continued to keep a weathered eye on the guards ahead, who took their presence with little fascination. Soon they arrived to the door and the hound guard smoking the cigarette tossed the burning filter to the side and reattached his free hand to his slung rifle. The two were heavily built and clothed in reddish uniforms with black gloves and boots and circular helmets that came low overtop their brows. Each of their eyes were dull and bored, perhaps majorly fatigued from extended work shifts and lack of sunlight.

"You lot expected?" the guard to the right spoke in a grizzly, foreign accent.

Fox waited for a reply from Peppy, but once he recognized the awkward silence, he turned to find Peppy giving him a glance.

_It's your venture, skipper._

"No," Fox answered, coughing briefly to clear his throat. "A friend of ours docked fairly recently for a visit. We're aware he's still here."

"Visitor?" the guard sounded amused.

Fox choked up, unsure of what to make of the growing situation, whether or not he was becoming more of a joke than a threat in the guard's eyes.

"What's your pack?" the guard continued on with his investigation. "Confederate or colonial?"

"Private."

The guard grunted. His canine eyes shifted up momentarily to view the tunnel behind them, and then back with an ill humored stare.

"Look, we just want a moment of your boss's time, if he can spare it." Fox continued to look the hound straight in the eye, trying to appear as much of a fellow adult rather than just another orphan with a heavy inheritance sum from a dead family.

The guards exchanged looks and shared a brief chuckle. Before long, the one at the right lifted his wrist towards his snout, using his other hand to lift up his dark orange helmet higher above his weak eyes. He spoke through the wrist mike in code-talk, soon bringing it closer to his ear and listening for a reply.

"Warden's already on the way," he finally spoke upon bringing his hand down to rest atop his rifle. "In the mean time, you'll have to surrender any weapons in your possession. Think of it as protocol for any… 'visitors'."

Fox glanced to his side. Peppy returned him with a disapproving shake of his head.

"I can't allow that," he turned back and answered.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear." The guard's mood suddenly changed from lazy to clear out annoyed. "You can't pass this door unless you hand over your weapons. You'll be allowed them back once you've finished your dealings."

"I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen."

Both the guards had taken a more "alive" stance with tighter grips over their rifles.

"While you're docked at this station you're under my watch." The guard glared with an inner fury building up within his bluish irises. "Either give up your guns or piss off back to Meteo where you floater trash belong."

"This is a private facility." Fox began to combat the guard with his own glare. "You're not fooling me. The only person here who has any authority is the warden and you're just another goddamn puppet with a gun."

"Callous, Mr. McCloud. Callous."

A new voice had echoed into the confrontation from the open doorway, accompanied by what sounded like the light tapping of high heel shoes.

"However, very astute in the case of this particular installation you so humbly docked in for a… _visit,_ yes?"

The guards appeared to instantly straighten themselves at attention, but something about their postures put off more fear than respect. The newcomer's voice was polished and suave in sophistication, as well as a sort of "feminocity". She stepped through the doorway and revealed herself, to Fox's surprise, to be not of a canine breed. Instead, she possessed a thin, short snout with straight, pointy whiskers sprouting from each cheek that hid her front teeth, all the while her long ears stood straight and dominantly at attention, listening to every sound with a natural born alertness.

The rabbit gave off an arrogant vibe below her high-riding brow with a pair of grey eyes that shined like silver behind her thin, rectangular spectacles.

"As perceptive as the father, no doubt," she spoke on with an aged voice that mentioned weathered beauty and evidence she was undoubtedly old to a degree, perhaps as old as Peppy. "And to your good fortune this _is_ my facility and I am the sole authority present. I would most certainly appreciate the same understanding from every one of my associates."

"Apologies, ma'am," said the previous antagonizing guard while keeping his apprehensive eyes forward.

The warden was dressed in a standard middle class work apparatus, a tight fitting grey blazer over a white blouse that exposed a portion of the white fur around her chest. Her glasses were framed in silver borders with a dark beaded necklace attached to each arm, wrapping beside her neck resembling the black marble-sized ear rings that stabbed through the lower inches of her lobes. She wore grey dress pants to match her emotionless choice in color that rode along her hips and ended at her ankles, where the high heels Fox heard with the rabbit's entrance glistened like polished leather.

"Peppleton Hare," the warden spoke while folding her hands. She smiled in flawless pleasure at the sight of him. "So it is really you. _My-_oh-_my,_ what a pleasant, yet volatile surprise."

"Hello, Diane," Peppy returned with a neutral tenor, putting off not a speck of joy or dread.

"And I was beginning to think you'd never return for a visit back to my private little warren." A chuckle mumbled through the civilized rabbit's closed lips. "It's surely missed your company."

Fox turned to flash Peppy a look of confusion. Slippy in the corner of his eye did the same.

"Assuming you're already familiar with this old cliché," Peppy continued, naturally, "I'm just here on orders."

"And so are the old times once again reborn to be lived for a moment by an unwelcoming pair."

"And I sure as hell hope to fate such a moment won't last."

"Pity." For a moment, the warden gave an unimpressed glance towards Fox before turning to exit back out the door behind. She motioned her fingers in a follow gesture and Fox, along with Slippy, quickly scuttled past the guards to catch up, Peppy reluctantly taking up the rear.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?" Fox asked the man upon slowing his pace to whisper back.

Peppy shook his head. "Nope."

"Am I to assume further more your being here is of private matters?" the warden spoke as they continued into a larger hallway resembling a hollowed out pipeline.

Fox turned his eyes back onto the sophisticated rabbit. "We believe that a particular person of our interest is here on board this station."

"And of all the luxurious locations in the system, _why,_ I ask, would this particular person be here?"

"Perhaps you're aware there's a ship docked that's currently registered to Meteo security." Fox glanced for a moment to his rear. He caught the two door guards watching their departure with tentative eyes. "Stolen vessel, interceptor class."

_"__Ah."_ The warden hummed a sadistic giggle. "Yes, I'm aware of such a ship as I am aware of a certain recent visitor. The same visitor who, unfortunately, passed through our border security systems unaware of a certain EMP field guarding the station's axis."

"Certainly by no coincidence," Fox answered, but found himself biting his tongue, regretting speaking freely to an obvious despot.

By the time they reached a second doorway into a separate chamber, the warden paused in her stern footsteps and turned around. Her eyes seemed to look at Fox's own like a dark queen taking in the feeble appearance of a peasant.

"You have your father's nose," she said, keeping an inquisitorial expression that resembled that of a psychopathic mad scientist. "He always did think it charming to go sniffing around the secrets of others all just to believe he had not a secret of his own." Her fluffy lips suddenly twisted into a deceivingly pleasant smile. "Shame how some mistakes tend to bring about such tragic results. You are aware of that, aren't you, Mr. McCloud?"

Fox instantly felt the muscles in his face melt under the icy flow of the warden's words. It took a moment for the feeling in his lips to return and he gave a frown. "Indeed I am."

"Ah, a son with an avid sense of diffidence. Such should be the way of all our children." The warden reached forward and tapped her furry, brittle knuckles atop the doorframe, causing several hollow echoes to bounce about the domain. She then turned her eyes to Peppy. "This particular generation really should learn to respect their elders. Wouldn't you agree, my dear?"

Fox glanced back to his right where he saw Peppy standing in an aura of silence, mindlessly staring into thin air.

The doorway opened and revealed a sudden change in atmosphere – a change that left Fox instantly bewildered. The room was shaped into a rectangular chamber with walls gleaming in golden light. There were two columns of strange plants parallel to each flank of the lime colored floor, every one of them structured like palm trees with bluish leafs. The sound of water flowing came to his ears and Fox looked down to see that there were two concentrated streams flowing on either side of the walkway. They walked further down to where several "employees" dressed in medical aprons walked about oblivious to the presence of visitors. Past the lines of plants and water streams was the following room, circular like a small dome, a stone-carven bowl fountain in the center giving birth to miniature waterfalls from a tall spire at its hub.

And to top off the jaw dropping display, a musical harmony was echoing across the walls. The playing tune reminded Fox of elevator music.

"Do not be so surprised," the warden mocked from the front. "It does grow tiring that people insist on ignoring the fact we are an _institution _and not just another desolate shithole inhabited by the justice system's lousy intentions."

"The fountain's a nice touch," Slippy mentioned, softly.

It was an instant after the toad spoke that a horrific cry of pain pierced through the elevator savvy musical chords from somewhere down past one of the closed doors and caused Fox's spine to rattle in fright.

"Indeed, feel free to ignore my associates as we pass by. They are quite busy." The warden kept her snout pointed forward, but something gave Fox the opinion that her eyes were in constant motion, observing her surroundings like a tyrant suspecting a growing plot. "We see to it that our duty as a private institution and extra-terrestrial containment center outweigh any and all personal concerns and comforts. Isn't that right, Peppleton, dear?"

"You've got a lot of explaining to do after this," Fox angrily murmured to his left.

Peppy ignored him and continued to play a silent role, even as they passed the doors into a separate, flashy hallway, another scream echoing along the walls and mixing with the "pleasant" elevator music.

As they moved down a long, surprisingly "roomy" hallway, Fox couldn't help but gawk at the Solar Renaissance replica paintings hanging from the spotless white walls while his feet walked easily upon a fine lime green marble floor. There were a dozen doors standing at the opposite wall, each painted red with name tiles glued below windows. One door was opened and inside Fox could see a setup similar to a hospital room: white walls and a hospital bed at the center surrounded by monitors and tables with random surgical instruments. This one was clean to the touch, appearing roomy like a hospital room back on Corneria. But as he and his team walked under the lead of the rabbit warden, they passed by a second room where he could hear a panicked voice struggling under some kind of constraints, along with what looked like a small pool of blood leaking out from below a door. When they passed it, both he and Slippy glanced into the small window and what met their eyes was a room identical to the last, but upon the hospital bed, some random "patient" or "convict" who appeared to be a mutt of a canine thrashed and growled like a wild animal while strapped down to the bed. Two other creatures in white blood-stained scrubs casually shuffled through a tray full of scalpels and knife-like tools with their faces completely covered in doctor masks and tinted goggles.

"Feral canines," the warden suddenly spoke up in her deceivingly sophisticated voice. "A most fascinating subject regarding sentient psychology. Extremely hostile behavior, total breakdown of basic intelligence, as well as my personal favorite, an unusual appetite for cannibalism. _Dog eat dog,_ if you will."

Fox felt himself gulp down a growing mound of saliva while glancing to Slippy. The toad's eyes were opened wide and staring blindly ahead, the look in his face and the stiffness in his steps resembling the face and posture of an unlucky fellow who just stared into the deathly eyes of a terrifying ghost.

"For instance," the warden continued, casually. "The two men you first met upon arriving? My most recent feral subjects."

"Those guards back at the front door were ferals?" said Fox.

"Indeed, once they were. However, several simple procedures involving the replacement of the brain stem and several cybernetic implantations have retransformed each of them into productive employees of this facility."

_"__Permanent residents, _Diane."

_"__Peppleton…"_ The warden stopped and slowly turned her head to look back at Peppy in particular, her silky grey rabbit features naturally sly while her sharp eyes appeared to adore the sight of him from behind the glass lenses of her spectacles. "Must you believe I am so heartless and cruel when I did so little to you to deserve such detestable scrutiny?"

"You did plenty… _honey."_

Fox immediately blinked in confusion at Peppy's last word and turned to look at him, seeing the hare's face beginning to show signs of aggravation separate from his usual apathy.

"Mr. McCloud," the warden suddenly turned her eyes to look to him, immediately changing her peaceful expression into something stricter and grudging. "I believe our former captain of security here has plenty of secrets to tell you regarding our… _unexpected_ rendezvous."

"Captain of security, you say?" Fox immediately glared sharply to Peppy, who momentarily glanced back with a blank face. "Fascinating. But for now, I would very much appreciate we return to the business at hand."

"The word 'business' does not apply in a mental detention center, Mr. McCloud." The tall-eared warden opened the following doors into another hallway, most likely a prison block given the bars folding over each of the reinforced doors along the left side wall.

Fox felt his brow begin to dig down against his eyes, feeling his patience begin to wither. "And I'm assuming the word 'legal' also doesn't apply here, is that right?"

The warden slowed her pace, and again, she slowly turned her head to glare back at him, her face strict and wise enough to not give off an emotion which could represent intimidation.

"I've come here for Falco Lambardi," Fox spoke on, professionally, while fighting past the evil aura beaming from the rabbit's eyes. "He's your most recent 'visitor' and I do not plan to leave here without him."

"Your persistence is pathetically useless, Mr. McCloud. This facility solely operates under my authority."

"You know that ship docked right outside?" Fox nudged his head backwards while putting off a cocky smile. "The one with the very big guns?"

"Are you threatening me, Mr. McCloud?" The neatly dressed rabbit raised the corner of her brow. "Would Daddy have appreciated the afterthought of his son becoming a pirate?"

"This isn't a threat, ma'am." Fox gradually folded his arms. "I'm simply making it clear it would be unwise to challenge _my_ authority."

He noticed Peppy at his flank slowly fold his arms like him, all the while turning his wandering eyes to the warden, as if curious to hear her response.

"Doublespeak," the warden spoke past another deceiving smile. "You even communicate like your father."

"This isn't my father speaking to a prison warden, ma'am," Fox answered without breaking his focus. "This is _me_ talking to _you, _and being the older and more experienced of us both I'm sure you well already know, given the longstanding relationship of our species, that it's foolish for a rabbit to not take a fox _seriously."_

The grey rabbit continued to stare at him through her silvery spectacles, not blinking, not even breathing. Whether or not she was intimidated was impossible to predict. Whether or not she was "convinced"… her silence was enough to convince Fox she was no longer viewing him as a child, but a man of influence.

"You may visit the patient but you cannot take him away," the warden eventually answered, finally speaking more business-like. "Not yet, at least. For fate would have it that there is a current bounty on Mr. Lambardi placed originally by a very influential business syndicate who, unfortunately, has a current relationship with this facility. If I were to sell my patient to you, I would be violating this facility's current agreement with this particular syndicate which is something, I'm sorry to say, I will not do. I am only being _legal,_ you see."

"Then how about you give this syndicate a friendly call," Fox suggested, refusing to break eye contact with the warden's cold gaze. "Mention that a certain person named 'Fox McCloud' is requesting to purchase rights to Lambardi's incarceration. If they're truly as 'influential' as you claim they are then I'm sure they'll be aware of my very, very substantial inheritance sum I'm willing to spend for their cooperation, as well as yours."

Peppy to the side breathed out a soft sigh. Slippy hadn't stopped watching between Fox and the warden, too unsure of himself to speak a word. The warden herself remained silent for a moment, her unblinking eyes combating Fox's own unblinking stare.

"Come back later," she eventually answered, her tone showing no signs of compromise. "I'm sure our syndicate partners will happily settle for an arrangement, eventually. Perhaps… in a week."

Fox felt his teeth slowly crunch together as he tried desperately to keep his frustration from showing up in his face. To his right, he felt Peppy's elbow nudge him and he looked up to see the hare slightly shaking his head, obviously sensing the aggravation boiling up inside him.

"Until then," the warden continued as she restarted their walk down the hall, "my patient will remain _my_ patient. I will do what I want with him, because he's mine, not yours. Oh, but I assure you, by the time he's under your care, he will not only be alive… but improved."

_"__This is dogshit," _Slippy murmured towards Fox's left ear.

"And you are…?" Again, the warden stopped, abruptly, while her inquisitive eyes finally acknowledged Slippy's green presence.

The toad instantly hiccuped and blinked his big, golf ball sized peepers after meeting the warden's glassy stare. "Uh, Slippy—_Toad,_ ma'am."

"What a fascinating specimen you are." The warden continued watching him with cold interest while they made slow, but steady process down the hall. "Has anybody ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?"

"My mother… I-I-I think." Again, Slippy hiccuped a nervous croak. "Once… she, um…"

"And what a magnificently broad cerebral cortex you possess," the warden continued, curiosity now swelling her usually callous expression. "You must be very, very intelligent."

Slippy cracked into a stupid chuckle. "Well, I, eh, don't like to _brag_ or anything, but—"

"What wondrous things we could find buried inside with just a simple incision down the forehead, between the eyes, and finally followed by a few little deep cuts across the surface of the skull."

And yet again, Slippy hiccuped another croak, this one sounding louder than the last.

"Diane?" Peppy broke his silence.

"Peppleton?"

"Stop it."

"As you wish, my dear."

* * *

They arrived to the neighboring ward arm of the station. Like some hocus-pocus the appearance of the asylum suddenly and drastically changed from spotless white walls and elevator music to echoes of horrific screams bouncing from rusty steel plates. The warden eventually stopped at the following corner beside a sign inscribed **SOLITARY CONFINEMENT** with an arrow pointing down a skinnier tunnel-like path which branched off to the left of the original hallway.

"Has he been causing you guys trouble recently?" Fox asked while looking down the rusty, wet hall which ended at a steel hatchway under the guard of two hounds in red and black uniforms.

"Your ability to grasp the obvious is inspiring," the warden responded, bleakly. "Indeed, I must admit he's been troublesome for both my guards and orderlies, using his feathers to conceal sharp objects that could be utilized as weapons and regularly breaking into violent confrontations with the other patients."

"What'd he do this time to piss you off?"

"Managed to escape long enough to open an airlock and space half a dozen of my research personnel."

Fox hummed, trying to sound uninterested, yet beneath his head, his brain's imaginary lips were grinning. "Sounds like both our parties would benefit if you simply just handed him over, no strings attached."

"Children and their sense of humor, it is _so… funny."_ The warden took a deep, dramatic breath. "Once you have finished your visit, I want you off this station, immediately. I will allow you five minutes."

"Peppy, you come with me," said Fox and nudged for the hare. "Slippy, you…"

He turned to his sides and suddenly found no sign of the toad, until he looked directly behind and acknowledged the jumper standing unnervingly close to his tail, out of the warden's sight.

"What's the matter with you?"

The toad looked up to him, clueless. "What?"

"Stay here with the warden."

"Wait, _what?"_

"Better if this guy doesn't know you're involved," said Peppy, obviously understanding Fox's reasoning. "If he remembers you from Meteo, he'll likely get the wrong impression about us."

"But _w-wait,_ I—"

"Diane?" Peppy turned to the sophisticated grey rabbit. "If I come back and he's within twenty feet of a scalpel…"

_"__Peppleton…" _The warden softly giggled from behind her fluffy cheeks. "When have I not been one for manners?"

Fox watched as Peppy turned around and began walking down the skinny corridor, not bothering to answer the warden with words. Fox glanced one more time to the warden before walking to catch up with Peppy.

"And Fox?"

The warden's deceiving voice caused him to stop and look back.

"For your sake and the sake of your companions," she spoke, steadily, "it would be unwise as a son to repeat the sins of the father."

Fox continued staring at the warden for a couple more repugnant seconds before forcing himself to turn around and continue his course, leaving the strict, colorless, tidily-dressed rabbit behind, along with an apprehensive Slippy who stood petrified like a classic toad about to be tossed into a burning cauldron by a sadistic witch.

* * *

"So is this the part where you explain how you and Honey Bunny back there have a past?" Fox asked once they finished getting searched for possible breakout tools by the guards at the hatchway. "I think I figured it out, but I'll let you say it."

"It isn't so much that we have a past," Peppy answered, his voice at a loss of enthusiasm. "Mostly since it's still going on, even forty years in."

They entered past the opened hatch and stepped into an empty room separating the following cell block from the rest of the station. Judging from the makeup of the small room which resembled an airlock, if Fox had to guess, this cell block was rigged to be "detached" and spaced if by some chance the occupants inside managed to get loose… or if the warden simply wanted to make an example to show the rest of her "patients" the consequences of rebellion.

"What do you mean 'still going on'?" said Fox, taking a moment to stop and switch his full attention to Peppy. "You've seriously been dating this psychotic broad for the past four decades?"

"Diane Hare is my wife, Fox."

The same reaction a cocky teenage boy suddenly hearing his girlfriend claim she was pregnant, Fox instantly felt every muscle in his face become lifeless and he even thought his mouth was hanging open like a cow with a broken jaw.

Peppy eventually glanced to him, taking notice of the disbelief running through his face. "Not every marriage is a fairy-tale, kid," he tried to explain.

"You have got to be the biggest idiot I have ever known."

"Funny," Peppy murmured while turning his eyes back to the door in front of them. "That's exactly what your dad said."

The door into the cell block opened and allowed them an entry. Stepping inside, the picture of the block was as putrid and disgusting as a rusty old bathroom in a deep space freighter stop. It wasn't very bright inside nor was it at all comfortable on Fox's nose. To the left, there appeared to be a total of half a dozen steel boxes, each seemingly lifeless – all except for one which, unlike the others, had a prisoner serial number pinned to its front.

Stepping up to the occupied cell, Fox gave a last glance to Peppy.

"Time to meet your buccaneer," said the hare past a barely noticeable smirk.

The cell doors soon slid open to reveal a set of vertical steel braids fashioned into a fence encasing a small, dark room the size of a closet. Shadow draped the crusty stone walls and the horrid stench of dysfunctional plumbing caused Fox to instantly cringe in disgust.

Within the cell there was nothing but flat ground – the reality was that there _was_ no plumbing. There was only a single, shaded lump wedged against the opposite wall, big enough to convince Fox the cell was indeed occupied.

"Solitary confinement these days," said Peppy, sounding amused. "Can't even spare a toilet."

Fox reached forward and tapped one of his claws against the cage. "Hey, buddy, you alright?"

There wasn't an answer. The lump on the floor continued to sit as silent as a rock, sulking under disgusting misery.

An idea suddenly struck him and Fox loosened up his stance, taking on a more casual slump. "Can't say I ever had an apartment this size before," he tried conversing. "Then again, this may as well be special treatment compared to Dr. Psycho's neurology experiments."

He paused for a moment, seeing whether or not the body made a movement or sound of any kind.

Still nothing.

"You must've ticked her off just the right amount," Fox continued. "Now you got your own private cell. Keep playing your cards right, you might be able to put off getting your noggin smashed into brain pie for, _oh…_ I don't know. What do you think, Pep?"

"Tops?" the hare played along. "I'd give it a week."

_"__Piss off,"_ a response finally arose from the dormant lump in the form of a hiss.

Fox wanted to smile but managed to hide it behind a fake frown. If there was one thing about pirates he knew for sure to be true it was that patience was never a virtue for the wicked.

"Ah, man, I'm trying to remember the story of this one guy…" he went on with the act. "Ugly sort. Black feathers, red beak. Kind who wears black robes and looks like a turkey who just got done roasting in an oven. A buzzard! _Yeah,_ that's the guy! Oh, boy, let me tell ya. This guy was so ugly he could've melted the eyes off a—"

Suddenly, and a bit to Fox's surprise, the lump rose and came forward into the light. The speed of the rise and the appearance of the detainee was enough to leave him impressed… and intimidated on a smaller side.

The face of the rogue pirate himself resembled something out of a comic book. As with most of the space-borne raptors, he was tall and tightly covered in feathers that rode all across his hide. His eyes were naturally keen and sharp like a true bird of prey. The clear, smooth surface of his yellow shaded beak was shaped like an ice cream cone bent down at the tip, two small hole-like nostrils visible at the top of the bridge between his "nose". The feathers at his scalp appeared to naturally slide back and flick up in the form of a ragged crest, likely mimicked from traditional tribal dew.

But what caught Fox's eyes the greatest was the bizarre color scheme decorating the raptor's feathers, from lucid scarlet surrounding his eyelids to the deep azure blue making up the majority of his tone. Slippy was right. This guy was a regular alien to Lylat standards.

Somehow (although Fox couldn't quite understand exactly _how)_ the pirate was managing to pull off a stern, hateful frown past his hard beak with his brow indented above his dark irises.

"Congratulations," said the pirate, sarcastically, his voice putting off a tenor that sounded surprisingly young and not as old as Fox anticipated. "You've managed to get so annoying you got my attention. So, you wanna talk or just stand there and make it easy for me to peck those eyes out?"

Fox felt all his humor seep away into a drain below him and the tension in his face began to grow. Not caring for the raptor's threats, he took a step forward, playing his mind in a mental game of blackjack against the raptor's hand.

The pirate continued to frown in disgust as he leant forward, oblivious to any danger or salvation that could possibly come his way. "Oh, _now_ I get it," he spoke on in that foolhardy voice. "So, I'm just too good looking for you to turn those eyes away. Tell you what – go find a corkscrew, twist it into your head, come find me again and I'll tear your skull out through your snout."

"Certainly has the attitude of a pirate," Peppy mentioned while giving a pitiful stare to where the prisoner spewed empty warnings from inside the cage.

"We're here to talk," Fox quickly interjected in front of Peppy's words. "Your name is Falco Lambardi, is that right?"

The name had struck an invisible nail into the back of the raptor's head, his eyes blinking in surprise and putting off an obvious answer.

"Do you know who we are?" Fox asked on, folding his arms.

The raptor shook his head upon realizing he was gawking like an idiot. "Does it matter?" he answered, suddenly sounding more hopeless than hostile. "You're not Cornerians, not Venomians, so obviously the colonials must've been the ones who sent you. Shame you end up finding me here. The Blades don't ever give up prisoners to second-rate bounty hunters."

"Wait a minute," Fox suddenly intervened upon catching a particular jest. "Why do I suddenly think you getting caught wasn't an accident?"

The pirate, Falco, shrugged his shoulders that were covered in a musty orange convict jumpsuit. "Not as dangerous for me in here then being out there," he answered.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean—ah, hell, why am I even bothering with you two?" He turned around and stomped back to his corner just several paces away. "Look, if you want my head, too, then get in line and wait for the race to start back up. I'll get out of this place by the end of the week. Then you'll get your chance."

A snicker of disbelief sputtered past Peppy's recently dry lips. "And just how exactly do you plan on springing this bird cage, son?"

_"__Wishful thinking,_ pops," his answer came through with more sarcasm. "This place is a box of crap. I could bust out right now if I wanted to… but I won't, since the heat hasn't cooled down yet. But soon, yeah, you just watch. You'll be wanting autographs afterwards."

Fox caught Peppy giving him a pitiful shake of the head.

"He isn't worth it," the hare murmured.

Fox frowned, but couldn't help but agree. Taking a final look to the bird, who had already retaken his seat in the dark section of the cell with just the silhouette of his body visible, Fox eventually sighed past his nostrils and gave in to Peppy's lead.

"What do you guys want with me?" Falco had suddenly spoken up from the darkness just as Peppy had reached for the door controls. His voice was dull and battle-weary.

Fox turned back and could barely pick out the reflection of light on the raptor's eyes. They were pointed downwards towards the ground, his brow digging deeply into them, and the look of them alone spoke for a mix of unquenchable frustration and an ultimate sense of failure.

"To give you a proposition," Fox eventually answered. "Keep running and die a failure, or start fighting and live for something better."

A blink came to the raptor's eyes but Fox didn't bother to press on in the attack. Peppy opened the door ahead and they began their exit through.

_"__Wait a minute," _he heard the bird's voice echo from behind the closing door. _"Who are you guys? Why are you here? Hey, I'm talking to you!"_

The door to the cell block closed before it was possible to give an answer. Fox looked to Peppy. The hare was standing idle with a smug grin, as if the whole intervention was something all too familiar to him.

"Pretty poetic, skip," the hare said.

"I try," Fox answered, trying to hold back a prideful smile. "You think he'll consider it?"

Peppy glanced back to the door, folding his arms. "Yeah," he answered, still grinning. "I'm sure he will. I was the same kind of stupid punk at that age."

The hare suddenly sniggered at something unknown.

"What is it?" Fox asked, curiously.

"Nothing. Fate's more like a river delta than I thought. So many streams… all connecting to the same flow." He gradually looked up to the following door back into the prison ward. "He'll be lobotomized by this afternoon thanks to that little authority act you pulled in front of Diane."

"I planned as much," Fox answered, looking to the door. "How exactly big is our bank account, anyways?"

"Not a question of how big it is, but more around how hard it is to make a withdrawal versus a deposit. It's probably best we wait to go over it once we've got a couple light-years between us and this rock."

"You afraid your spouse will get angry if she catches you talking business?" Fox broke into a quick smirk. "Peppy, what'd you get yourself into? Captain of the guard? Sleeping with the boss? Married to a complete psychopathic—"

"What do you think I am?" The hare cut him off while looking to him with a noticeable frown. "A prince in shining armor who's supposed to be living happily with some silky white damsel in a kingdom by the sea?" He spit out a snigger and shook his head, like he was pitying Fox's youth. "Son, I fight wars for a living. Big ones and small ones. Most of the time I'm surrounded by the worst Lylat has to offer, and when you've lived in that kind of world your whole life you can't just drag some innocent sweetheart into the dark side of the room. You have to stick to your borders, take what comes to you, and make the best of it. Love included."

Fox frowned and dismissed the subject. "Alright, alright. I get it."

After Fox knocked his knuckles onto the exit hatch, there was a moment of silence between him and Peppy, both of them continuing to wait for the guards behind the door to finish unlocking the way.

"Guess she has nice legs," Fox eventually broke the silence.

Peppy to his side, rather than turn hostile like a traditionally egotistical husband, simply shrugged his shoulders, carelessly. "I like her poetry the most."


	15. Chapter 14

**14 -**

His eyes continued to drown in the shadows for hours. Distant screams continued to echo to his ears while the damp, disgusting puddle beneath his rump lifted up a putrid smell to his nostrils – Falco ignored it all.

_Idiots…_

_Bozos couldn't even afford a freaking toilet._

There was a breach at the top-center of the gate which threw out several cold beams of fluorescence, piercing his eyes like holy rays from heaven. He shuddered and turned away, using his feathery arm to block out the glare.

The light was partially blocked out by a shadow. A guard, obviously, who had quickly tapped an object against the hole creating an obnoxious _click-click. _

Rolling his head lazily, Falco rose from his slump and onto his unsteady feet. The blood rushed from his head and down past his limbs fast enough to make him feel intoxicated. Once he approached the gate, he could see the silhouette of the guard on the other side of the door. This one seemed peculiar compared to the usuals. His mask was lowered from atop his helmet concealing his face. And unlike the other hounds, this one was forced to look _up_ rather than _down._

"You're a bit short for a guard dog," Falco spoke down, carefree of any consequences. "What are you? A Cockerspanuel?"

The guard appeared to grow even stiller, either dumbstruck or ticked off by the words. Eventually, something flew through the opening and into the cell. The guard had tossed in the same object he used to tap the bars with.

The moment Falco turned back from watching the device fall into the back corner, there was nothing to be seen. The guard had vanished like a ghost without a single sound of footsteps or a breath of air. Moving to the corner, he bent over to claim the object, and suddenly he felt his mind become flabbergasted. It was his old PDA. The same damned one, he could've sworn. But something was different – something was taped along the bottom. Using the luminescence to gain sight, it appeared to be a remote control of some sort. He quickly realized it was a detonator (he had enough experience in the field of demolitions to recognize one – this particular one was crude and appeared to be homemade). There was also a slip of paper wrapped over the button with scribbled words. Unraveling the slip, the note turned the scenario into something almost too comical to believe:

Be sure to cover your ears

"You've gotta be kidding me," he groaned, not knowing what to think.

Briefly examining the detonator, he pressed the trigger down with his thumb. A second passed with not a bang or rumble to be felt. Pressing it several more times, it was perhaps the third try (or fourth) when the immortal soul inside him nearly burst past his feathers to give a shriek of fright.

There were two blasts. One came from directly behind him, so close he could feel the tips of his tail feathers poking past his jumpsuit slightly melt under the sudden excess of extreme heat. The second appeared too had detonated somewhere else in the station, so violent it caused the stone floor to split several inches apart. The entire cell shook abruptly and the bang sounded like a shotgun blast beside his ears. The stone covering the wall to his rear was instantly vaporized and crumbled away to reveal the open space beyond a dust cloud. He quickly held fast with his feathers over his beak, but then he remembered the G-diffusion field covering the station. Air remained the same but he could feel the gravitational suction softly pulling him towards the exit. He grabbed a hold of the jail bars, imagining he would be carried into the dark sanctum beyond the field if he was careless. But then something else came to his eyes past the quickly dispersing sediment: a short, rather stumpy looking body holding fast to the edge of the hole. When his vision became clear, he could barely believe who this random space floater was.

_"__You?" _he spoke aloud in a shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Offering my services at a discount," the husky toad spoke through a respirator attached across his wide jaw. "You know what? Given the circumstances, let's just go with 'free of charge', eh?"

Something banged through past the closed gate locking his cell. The sound of frantic voices arose from behind the barrier and he recognized their foreign accents to be that of the guards. The toad reached out his hand and beckoned him to make haste. Something he took for a jetpack was strapped across his shoulders.

"C'mon, we gotta get out of here!"

"Are you insane?" Falco was stupefied to point he almost forgot about the guards attempting to open his cell from behind.

"You'd rather stay and get your brain dissected? Just trust me!"

_"__There's another one!" _a voice suddenly yelled through the open eye panel at the gate. _"Open cell six! Open it!"_

Falco noticed the toad's brow rise and give him a "Well, then?" look, as if his point had just been emphasized.

"This better be worth it," he said.

The toad amazingly chuckled despite the growing heat of the situation. _"Ho-ho,_ trust me. You're in for one helluva ride."

The sound of several gunshots broke past the cell gate. More frustrated yells echoed from the bloodthirsty guard dogs. Reacting to the first rifle burst, Falco jumped from his corner over to the breach.

_"__Open the cell, you idiots!"_ one of the guards yelled past the lighted eye panel.

"Grab on!" the toad yelled just as more gunfire erupted from the rear. One of the more trigger-happy guards had begun blind firing his weapon through the eye panel. Energy blasts slammed across the cell walls around them. The moment he took a hold on the toad's vest, the jets behind the pack ignited in a quick spurt that sent them out past the hole and into space, several stray rifle blasts whizzing by like jet-propelled fireflies.

The stars first came to his sight as something out of an instant dream. All sound disappeared, no longer vacuumed between solid barriers. The jets continued to disperse small sputters, keeping them on a direct path forward. He looked behind and saw the foundations of the station, each Blade blinking with numerous, derelict lights of scarlet shades. The sight alone frightened him, he couldn't deny it. But he kept his face stern and absent of fear, despite his only audience was the toad who kept his eyes focused on the emptiness ahead.

Several seconds into their flight, something new came to view just ahead. It came through in darkness, out of the sun's field of view. But it soon had activated numerous lights across its physique, which turned out to be magnificently larger than what Falco had expected, from the broad X wings to the nose of the hull where a spotlight had begun to shine on their approach. In another moment, several larger lights arose at the titan's chest, soon revealing a tunnel access port into what was now an obvious ship of some sort.

The toad suddenly nudged him and tapped his hand onto his chest then mimicked a fake exhale and blinked his eyes hard in the form of a signal. Falco nodded, without hesitation. It wasn't long until he suddenly felt the true reality of space envelope his entire body, just as they exited the station's G-diffuse field. He started exhale through his nostrils while tightly closed his eyes, protecting the moisture from freezing in the complete absence of heat. His feathers shriveled from extreme cold and he could feel the toad beside him shudder even greater as their lungs became compressed. Their suffering, fortunately, quickly came to close once he heard normal sound return to his ears. The jet sputtered one last breath until he felt both of their bodies fall like rocks onto a hard floor.

The following moment was exceptional in misery. He coughed violently along with the toad while shivering uncontrollably, feeling as if he had just climbed out of a freezing river in the midst of an icy winter. Breaths of heat continued to give him mercy from the room around, and opening his dry eyes and soon adjusting to the light, he found it to be a small hangar. The gates into the docking bay closed and his ears popped as they equalized to the change in pressure. He pressed up against the floor and saw the toad to his side attempt to walk over to an intercom attached to the closest wall, clumsily falling over when the weight of his pack outmatched his weakened condition. Pulling the buckles and straps from his shoulders, he crawled first, and then managed to limp over and take a desperate hold around the intercom.

"I'm… _we're_ good, Peppy," he said, sounding like those ten seconds in open space was a regular marathon. "One hundred and… _ten_ percent."

_"__Good work, Slippy," _another strangely familiar voice replied.

Falco continued to sit back on his rump, beginning to regain his breath. "Slippy _Toad?"_ he spoke the name aloud. "The mechanic? What is this? Just who are you working for?"

The toad rolled his eyes. Hunching over, he rested his elbows against his skinny knees. "Wow, no 'Thank you'?" he grumbled. "Hope Fox made the right choice pulling your ungrateful feathers out of the cage."

Falco blinked, still completely lost. "Who?"

* * *

Slippy led him to the top of the ship, through an access elevator to what became apparent as the cruiser's bridge. It wasn't like anything he had ever seen. Falco couldn't help but take in the sights with bleak fascination, but he tried to ignore it, more inclined of getting answers from these mystery rescuers onboard this mystery ship.

The elevator doors parted and the bridge opened up to them both. Slippy had been rubbing his arms for the entire walk – something about his skin not being keen in moister-less environments, he mentioned, with space being the worst of it all. The bridge itself turned out to be fairly undermanned. When he was expecting to find a dozen crewmembers, there were only two from what he could see.

"Rob, I need an ETA on that EMP field," the one at the helm spoke from the chair. Falco could only see the person's dusty brown ears that rose above the chair giving him an extra foot to his actual height.

_"__Station EMP grid deactivated,"_ a clunky-built robot spoke from several paces away at the helm. _"Primary systems reboot in three… two… one… mark."_

The cruiser's interior had suddenly become brighter and clearer. The electrical systems which were running dark before had leapt to life, monitors flashing and beeping while both the robot and the helmsman became totally visible. The helmsman rose to his feet and turned the chair, revealing his identity to his eyes as a person of interest from recent history.

"Welcome aboard the Great Fox, Mr. Lambardi," the old, gaunt-faced, lazy-eyed hare spoke aloud while approaching him. "Hope you didn't mind us lending a hand in your brilliant escape."

"Escape?" Falco was on the verge of becoming speechless. "Whose escape? _My_ escape? Are you guys out of your freaking minds?"

"And still not a single 'Thank you'…" Slippy's voice drowned away while he moved to take a seat at one of the terminals. "Ended up turning my butt blue for nothing."

"I'm not thanking anyone until I know what the hell is going on!"

There was an electronic ring from back towards the helm.

_"__Location confirmed," _that robot spoke. "Fox _is requesting pickup."_

"And who is this _'Fox'?_ Is he the one behind all this?"

"Slippy, get down to the hangar and be ready with the jetpack," said the hare.

_"__Ugh, _again?" the toad groaned as he started to jog for the elevator. "I'm gonna be a girl by the time this circus act is over."

_"__Incoming priority message."_

"Patch it through, Rob."

_"__Pep?" _a new voice suddenly spoke out from the radio frequency by the helm._ "Peppy! Goddamn it! Pick up the phone!"_

"Fox, get to the access port on the second ward. Slippy will be there in a minute."

There were several sudden crackles that sounded like gunshots hissing past the frequency.

_"__Fox,_ what's going on in there?"

_"__They've put the entire second ward on lockdown,"_ the voice in the radio yelled past heavy breathing. _"Dock at port seven on the first ward. Use the bridge hatch, this is gonna be tight."_

"Rob?"

_"__Affirmative,"_ the robot, Rob, responded. _"Redeploying now."_

"Hey, _long-ears,_ are you gonna keep ignoring my questions?"

"You wouldn't mind if I ignored them for another five minutes, would you?"

Falco grinded the sharp edges of his beak together in aggravation while the hare moved past him and towards the short hatchway tunnel at the left side of the bridge.

_"__Damn!"_ the voice of "Fox" in the radio suddenly yelled through the crackles of laser fire. _"Pep, you ready at the door?"_

"Hang tight, kid, we're nearly docked." The hare began to unlock the hatch while Falco stood by with his arms folded and his eyes glaring. "You better shift that tail into gear before they get the EMP field back up."

_"__Warning,"_ said Rob. _"EMP grid emergency reactivation commencing in sixty seconds."_

_"__Too late! Open the door!"_

Peppy abided the frantic request and the hatch opened up to show the metallic surface of Four Blades hovering above an infinite drop of space. "What are you doing, kid?"

_"__Trust me, just keep her steady! I'm coming aboard."_

"Slippy, drop the pack and get up here, ASAP." The hare cursed silently as he peered around the corner of the door, watching the station's hull fly by.

_"__Trust me?" _Falco could only imagine the growing reality of the fourth crewmember's words. "You guys really must be insane."

The cruiser moved forward for another twenty yards before coming to a halt before an opening docking port. The doors ahead parted to reveal the inside, and Falco could pick out several streams of laser fire slamming across the room. A body rushed from behind the tracer-lit corner wearing a guard's uniform, absent of the helmet. The size of the person was easily distinguishable as the same short jail guard who first gave him the detonator.

"Level out!" the hare yelled up to the helm through the neighboring intercom.

The imposter guard fired a pistol back to his chasers, and soon, in a bold, perhaps even fearless act of escape, he dove out the open gate and into a direct drift towards the bridge hatch.

_"__Sonofa—" _Peppy cursed again under his breath while scurrying to lean himself out the hatch, one arm extended. Falco, reacting out of instinct, leaned out beside him and reached out his arm. The fourth crewmember, a fox he suddenly noticed from the vibrant flow of orange fur, flew forward like an organic missile in slow motion. In a matter of tedious seconds, he reached the doorway and slammed directly into his rescuers. Falco felt the force knock both he and the hare onto their backs as they grabbed a hold of the fox's shoulders. The ground slammed their tails as gravity dropped the fox's body like a boulder in midair.

Back inside the station port, the guards arrived in mass with weapons raised, but suddenly stopped once a thick red laser pointer began to point at their position from the bow of the cruiser.

_"__Bridge defense guns standing by," _the robot narrated his actions.

As the three of them rose to their feet, the newcomer shook his shoulders that seemed black in several areas that came into close proximity from laser fire. He was breathing hard and smiling like a track star who had just leapt past the finish line in first place, and even began to laugh aloud (more to Falco's amazement).

_"__The Flying Fox,"_ the hare spoke up while taking his time rising back to his feet, a medical brace clicking under pressure over his left leg. "Next you'll be juggling balls in front of a battleship."

The crowd of guards within the port continued to hold their fire, obviously sane enough to realize the absurd odds between infantry rifles and a fully armed warship. Somebody else had arrived to the bundle, taking position to the front. Falco could easily see from this distance that it was the warden. He didn't even need his eyes to tell it was her in that plain white-collar dress. The chill in his spine, alone, was enough to convince him it was the same furry succubus that made his dreadful visit to Four Blades a living hell for weeks.

But through his predator-born eyes he began to see an expression in the evil bunny's face that he hadn't even imagined to be possible for her. The left corner of her lips seemed to twist upwards and form a shallow smirk, and her entire head began to shake slowly from side to side.

Glancing to the fox to his side, who he remembered from the first visit before the escape, the orange and white-coated "businessman" (who looked like he could've just gotten out of high school) formed a grin full of hubris and he rose an open hand towards their spectators, as if waving them goodbye, or accepting a deaf encore from a stupefied audience…

… and Falco was the only one who wasn't "clapping".


	16. Chapter 15

**15 -**

The Great Fox flew at a decent speed with Four Blades behind continuing its lonely drift within the diamond spotted blackness.

Within the crew lounge, Fox loosened the belt of his red trousers and pulled the matching crimson flak jacket from his shoulders, tossing it to a nearby chair. Feeling his boiling skin beneath his jumpsuit receive a draft of cool air, he exhaled steadily past his lips.

"Got to hand it to Peppy," he spoke aloud. "Wasn't for him, Missus Hare would be sending all her fighters to turn us into a scrap field."

"I guess I can imagine what 'love' is like," Slippy responded to the side. "But Peppy and that… _doctor?_ Sounds unhealthy."

The room was glowing in a deep orange. It was a fortunate change in color and atmosphere compared to the cold, deceiving grips of the prison station.

"These days if I could just once go somewhere without being shot at…" Fox spoke drearily past his lips as he dropped exhaustingly down onto one of the loveseats. "Just once…"

"Getting shot at is one thing." Slippy was sitting curled up in a ball upon the worn down couch with a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. "Jumping through space unprotected is just plain crazy, dude."

"Spare me."

"Just stating facts, brothah."

Fox sighed aloud. "Till we pass the storm, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Well, there's…" The toad paused to sneeze past a growing cold. _"…definitely_ a dissimilarity between what's necessarily brave and what's just plain bat-shit unbelievably insane."

The toad sneezed again, this one sounding worse than the last.

"Like a frog jumping through _actual_ space in nothing but his work clothes." Fox snickered. "And I'm still the one who's 'insane'."

Slippy groaned like an overweight couch potato being forced to adjust his slug-like body for comfort. He continued to sniff his nose while staring mindlessly at the faraway sun outside the observation window, his jaw squished against his chest making him look all the more like a giant slug.

Steps echoed from their rear and Peppy soon arrived to the scene. "He's in the medical bay with Rob," he said. "Three weeks in a place like Four Blades can take a toll on the body. Tough egg. I'm surprised he's not dying of hunger, let alone paranoia psychosis."

"Should we…" Slippy sneezed, again, "…keep him in there? Alone? Or did I forget Rob was side-programmed in Kung Fu?"

Peppy took a seat bordering the corners between Fox's and Slippy's, pulling his leg brace upwards before plopping his behind onto the cushion. "A pirate who can just barely get away with stealing a busted fighter from Meteo isn't going to manage pulling off an Arwing from a ship with a security system as good as GF's. He's smart enough to recognize the odds."

"Guess the warden was kind enough to spare him his common sense," Slippy added.

Peppy rested his back down and sighed aloud, seizing the opportunity to rest his eyes.

"Did I make the right choice?" Fox spoke the thought that had been troubling him since they first entered the station. "Going through all this trouble to save this guy?"

Peppy reopened his eyes and turned his head to meet his concerned gaze. "Asking those kinds of questions is like asking whether or not time can go backwards instead of forward. There's a consequence to everything, as well as a reward."

Fox lifted his frown to a stable, neutral form, trying to allow his doubt to pass on.

"Could've picked a better spot to park the Great Fox, though," Slippy spoke in his stuffy voice. He raised his arm and began rubbing his fingers along his skinny bicep. "You see this stuff?" He rubbed off some excess slime. "This is mucous. It covers every inch of my skin up to my eyeballs. Imagine what it's like when your floating in subzero temperatures. I felt like a freaking ice sculpture out there."

"You're the best, Slippy," said Peppy, lacking passion.

The toad spat an obnoxious pocket of air past his big mouth before sneezing a third time. "Thanks, _Peppy."_

"Shame our new friend wasn't able to fly himself out." Fox shook his head with a smug smirk. "And I thought chickens were the only flightless birds."

"We can't fly without help," a new voice entered the conversation, "but we can glide just fine whenever the need arises."

Fox turned his head towards the elevator at the beginning of the lounge, and there was the Blueberry Chicken himself, standing in his orange jail trousers, bare chested with muscles pressing out from beneath his feather hide, along with several bandages nursing old wounds sustained during his confinement. He was folding his arms like a regular gangster putting off a "no BS" vibe, ripped biceps in full view with several scarlet tribal tattoos dyed into his chest and shoulder feathers. His brow seemed naturally inclined to stab down into his red-coated eye sockets in a serious, near-furious expression, all the while his beak always appeared to be frowning.

"Not that we ever really need to," he continued to speak in his full-of-himself voice. "Mostly because we're never the ones running away from a fight by jumping headfirst into space."

"So says the pirate who gets chased off by his own crew," Fox made an easy comeback.

Peppy turned around in his seat with a raised brow, along with Slippy, all three of them looking over to where the prideful raptor stood like a one-man army. The expression in Falco's face turned limp and finally the tension in his brow appeared to level out, giving up its original hostility. His arms eventually dropped and hung at his sides as he gave an aggravated sigh. He began his approach into the lounge, his boney, bare feet barely making a sound across the carpet. The back of his scalp was revealed just long enough to show several longer feathers wrapped around in a small pony tail fashion, while another scarlet tattoo, one in the shape of a tribal sun, was branded across the left side of his neck.

"Look, let's just point out the obvious here," he spoke upon arrival, once again folding his arms. "You know me, but I don't know you. So here's how this is gonna work… I want an answer from you gung-ho bozos now or else I might just have to rig a bomb of my own and blow _myself_ out for a change."

Fox glanced to Peppy, who turned back and folded his own arms, as if playing the role of a spectator interested as to how _he_ would handle this situation without help from Uncle Pep.

Eventually Fox looked back to the wannabe challenger with an unimpressed frown. "It's called karma," he explained.

"What?"

"Karma," he said again. "Do something good, you get good karma. Do something bad, you get bad karma. For every bad thing you do, there'll eventually be a consequence. And for every good thing you do, there'll eventually be a reward later on." Fox wove his hand over to the rest of his crew. "Lately, our luck factor has been running on overtime so we thought, _'Hey, why don't we rescue one of those unlucky prisoners from that floating jail over there?'_ And so we dropped by to pay our dues and—guess what?—we managed to help some random buccaneer in distress break out of one of the most notorious prisons in Lylat. Who knows? Maybe someday they'll make a movie about it."

Falco's stance had undoubtedly weakened in resolve and his eyes appeared to boggle together with his confused psyche.

"In frank," Fox continued, "we need your help."

The raptor adjusted his footing, his eyes trying to control the amount of curiosity flowing through his head. "What do you mean 'You need my help'? For what?"

"For the same reason you need our help."

"Who says I needed any help? I've been doing just fine on my own."

Peppy to the side immediately released an entrapped giggle from his lips.

"You're on the run for your life, Falco," Fox began to emphasize his point. "And chance would have it they're people out there who want I and my colleagues here dead as well."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a mutually beneficial relationship. Enough lone-wolf crap and start practicing some cooperation. We protect you from your old buddies-in-crime. In return, you help us with our own battle."

There really wasn't any sure way to tell if Falco was interested or too taken aback from the entire ordeal. But the sudden lack of arrogance following his silence made Fox think that he succeeded in sprinkling some intrigue over the raptor's birdbrain.

"Go ahead and take a seat if you want," Fox offered while waving his hand to the chair between Peppy and Slippy.

"And what if I _don't_ want to?"

"Do you see any of us pointing a gun to your head?" Fox gave him a lazy stare. "Relax."

Falco continued to stand his ground. "Look, I had a plan to begin with and I would've gotten out of that hellhole all the same without your help."

"All before those maniacs managed to break you," Fox responded, unconvinced.

"Those _chumps_ couldn't have broken me even if they tried."

"Well, then, look at the bright side." Fox allowed himself to slump further into his seat and fold one ankle atop his opposite knee. "Now you get to say you busted out of jail without being forced to kill anybody."

"And that's saying something," Peppy added.

_"__Wo-wo-wo…" _Falco shook his head while stepping over closer towards the circle. _"I_ busted out? Was I the one who strapped a bomb to the outside of my cell?"

"You're the one who pulled the trigger," Peppy explained.

"So theoretically speaking," Fox continued, "you _are_ responsible for the jailbreak. I can bet it all in that the good doctor would have some interesting new procedure to test solely on your head if she ever got you back. So, congratulations. You're the first fugitive in the history of Four Blades Penitentiary."

_"__Second." _Peppy glanced to Fox with the corner of his brow raised. "Don't go giving away my title."

An aura of silence suddenly fell atop of Falco, and for the first time in the short time he knew the birdbrain, Fox sensed that he was finally beginning to lift his iron curtain of ignorance to listen to reason.

Soon, the bird finally made a move and turned to walk over to claim Fox's recent offer for a seat, sitting down his behind and resting back against the cushion.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I should be thankful."

To the side, a dramatic groan spat itself out from Slippy's lips. "You _guess?"_

"I'd have been _thankful_ if you'd gotten off your lumbering ass to lend me a hand back on Meteo."

"What, so now I owe you an apology for obeying the law?"

"Damn right you do."

Slippy sneezed, yet again. "I _apologize _for being an ass_…_ you asshole."

Falco had begun to appear less tense and soon shifted his eyes back up to Fox, who sat combating his blink-less stare with one of his own.

"Is it too much to know who exactly I'm teaming up with here?" the bird asked.

Fox straightened himself in his seat. "Fox McCloud," he introduced himself.

"McCloud?" Falco frowned and blinked his eyes, then returned him with a shake of his head. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"Not good with your history, are ya?" Peppy asked.

Falco erupted in a chuckle of disbelief. "I'm the best, deadliest, handsomest pilot in Lylat you'll ever find," he answered, cheekily. "I _make_ history."

Fox exchanged another glance with Peppy. He could see in the hare's eyes he was laughing off the top of his mind, and it wasn't long until he really began to laugh past his fuzzy lips. Slippy eventually joined in while Falco sat still with barely a smirk in his beak – something about it spoke of more skepticism.

_Looks like we picked up one of Lylat's self-righteous crusaders…_

Fox had to force himself not to laugh back. "Welcome to Star Fox," he answered, his voice absent of any enthusiasm.


	17. Chapter 16

**16 -**

He had to force himself to open the drawer of his desk and reach in to pull out the minute spectacle. The chrome layer engulfing the red pupil glowed like silver in the lamp light. Fox couldn't help but stare at it for a moment, until he managed to press down on the hard drive with his fingers.

The eye came to life with a crimson glow that reminded him of Lylat's red giant, Solar. It appeared to blink on its own once every couple seconds.

"Hey, Dad," he bleakly spoke, as if the eye came equipped with a radio linked to the afterlife.

Glancing up from the eye to his desk, the family photo continued to rest easy in the corner, along with its only two characters within its silvery frame. It took an even longer moment for him to come to his senses and break his daze, looking away from the picture and back down to the eye.

Gradually rising the spectacle up above the desk, he carefully leveled it with his eyes until he could see into the fiery core of its pupil. Something had soon begun to faze him, like a sudden dream embracing him between two giant wings with feathers as soft as a newborn pup's fur. The red glow of the eye engulfed his vision and soon vanished, being replaced by the same black-and-grey scheme that had been the case before. He tried to blink out the digital fuzziness, but it still remained. His body was absent, as if his eyes were all that was left of him, hovering above thin air.

_"__There is gap between what separates a hero from a murderer."_

The voice was on cue this time around. Fox turned and saw the shadowy figure at the desk, bent over once again, looking like a drunken victim of post-traumatic stress.

_"__In times of war, the people scream for miracles, a savior. Somebody to light the dark tunnel ahead. Somebody who was meant to perform miracles." _The body sat back after a pause, appearing to be stretching his stiff back aching with age sores. _"They see me as a pariah, a contradiction to my chosen occupation; that I fight not for profit alone, but for the galactic order of things. I hunt down those I deem to be a danger to the safety of Lylat, and I strike with a fury so unbelievable it feels as if I am an equal to death himself._

_ "__But what of the true story? A firsthand account of the man himself? While thousands of lives live on in content by his grace, thousands more lie dead by his claws. What becomes of his own life? What becomes of a man who grows so apathetic to the notion of death to the extent where death itself becomes his ally? He lives on as an immortal hero to others, but a murderer to himself._

Fox attempted to "float" forward to the man's side. He arrived to where he could see past his shoulder, and before the man's hands lying open upon a desk was a book, no bigger than a common ship's log with what appeared to be handwriting inked into the silky pages. The static making up the man's inky black form continued to sit still as he took the form of a statue. There was barely any life to be seen from him.

_"__There will come a time when I will have to face these demons of the past and stare them straight in the eye,"_ the voice spoke in the voice that had been haunting Fox's dreams. _"I will face a point where I must allow reality to judge the person I have become. But until my day of judgment becomes real… _this_ person remains._

_"__I am the champion… I am the destroyer."_

Fox suddenly noticed the man move his arm and reach for the book. Taking a grip of it, he set it down into the drawer beside him, closing it, as if to lock away the story of his life forever.

The vision began to fade as the black and white was replaced with the crimson light. Fox soon awoke with a gasp as he found himself sitting back within the desk chair, Rob's eye still pinched between his fingers.

_The champion_

_The destroyer_

Once again, he was lost. The journal log sounded like nothing but mixed mediations from a deeply troubled soldier. Fox couldn't help but feel just as troubled to imagine his father in such a position. The man was supposed to be a god among mortals, the pinnacle of all heroes. Not _this…_

_Death becomes an ally_

The thought brought a sudden flux in mood and caused him to angrily open the top drawer and stuff the robotic eye back inside. But it was this moment he remembered something from the recording – the book. He looked back down into the drawer and pushed aside the pistol and eye along with several old business telegrams but found nothing, not a sign of the book's existence. Maybe the old man moved it. Or maybe somebody found it, maybe Peppy. But that became too unbelievable to be true. Peppy was far too loyal to James to have ever gone behind his back and search his belongings…

…or was he?

"Sins of the fathers," he murmured.

Fox shook his head, beginning to regret taking a second visit into the dream world.

* * *

_"__McCloud!"_

Falco's call was met with nothing. Not even that old long-ear, Peppy, arose from around a corner to meet his voice.

_"__Where are you McCloud?"_

He trekked farther down the dimly lit cargo tunnel leading into what he remembered to be the hangar.

_"__FOX!"_

_"__Will you shut UP?"_ a high, pubescent voice he recognized to be Slippy's, that overpricing mechanic, echoed back into his ears. _"Jeeze-la-wheeze, you know this whole level of the ship echoes like a mile-long cave. You don't have to yell, you know!"_

Eventually he made it into the hangar and took in the crane lifts on the ceiling and scattered supply crates piled against the tall walls. Opposite of the launch bay's closed gateway there was a line of three white and blue fighters locked onto a horizontal landing strip. The sight of them made him blink. Like this entire cruiser, they looked custom made. _Alien,_ if he let his stupid imagination get to him.

"You come to check out the lovebirds?"

Looking over to an open door to a concealed garage in the far corner, Slippy walked out, wiping his slimy, greasy hands across a washcloth.

"What?"

"The Arwings. The _lovebirds."_ Slippy cracked into a chuckle while waving his hand to the fighters. "You know, since they're drop-dead gorgeous… they can fly, so… they're _birds,_ so to speak… and, well, so are you… right?"

Falco stood like a feather coated statue, gawking at the toad with his beak partially dropped like a stupefied idiot. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Slippy immediately shoved his self-conscious hands into his jumpsuit's pockets. "Nothing at all."

"Do you intentionally try to act like a moron?"

"No." The toad's eyes awkwardly glanced side to side, as if he suspected there was a sniper stalking him from a nearby shadow. "Sorry, that look you're giving me is, eh… starting to freak me out."

"What _look?"_

"That _look_ you're giving me right now. _There!_ There it is!"

"What are you talking about?"

"That… that thing." Slippy had begun to accuse him like a kid pointing out the robber of his stolen lollypop. "The _thing_ with the beak and the brow and the demon red around your eyes. Is that even natural?"

_"__Wha—_are you kidding me?" Falco couldn't help but release a laugh of disbelief. "It's _hereditary, _you idiot."

"Uh-huh. Like those _cool_ swirly red tattoos over your shoulders. And the superstar biceps – let me guess…"

"All natural, flubber neck."

"The ink or the biceps?"

"Both."

Slippy cracked into a giggle but suddenly stopped, his abnormally (almost disturbingly) wide mouth switch from a giant smile to a classic frog frown. "W-wait a minute," he spoke, skeptically. _"Flubber neck?_ What's that supposed to mean?"

"Where's Fox?"

"If you're talking about the circumference of my waistline, I can assure you—"

_"__Where… is… FOX?"_

"Alright-alright! You don't have to yell. _Sheesh…" _He eventually bent his flubber neck and nudged to the gateway into the launch tunnel. "He's taking one of the lovebirds for a spin. Testing out a new G-Diffuse power consumption upgrade I just installed."

Falco glanced to the closed gate and back to the line of fighters. Over towards the gate there appeared to be the controls to separate the doors, and the locking mechanisms holding down the fighters were likely controlled from within Slippy's garage over in the corner behind the toad.

Falco slowly turned to flash a "friendly" smile to where Slippy stood slumping in his short, fat physique. "Arwings, eh?"

"Legends in the flesh… or metal, whatever."

"They must be pretty fast."

_"__The_ fastest."

"Plenty of firepower, I reckon."

"You _reckon_ correctly, sir."

"And that one on the left. All powered up and ready to go?"

_"__Absolu—_wait a minute… why are you grinning?"

* * *

The stars drifted past his sight as the hum of the engine massaged his body and mind.

Up ahead was what appeared to be a massive nebula cloud, this one so thick he could see its misty confines glow a vibrant shade of pinkish purple from the light of the sun shining behind it. Deeper in, there appeared to be several electrical bolts lighting up the interior. The merchant navies called this sort of cloud a "purple eye", the closest thing to a hurricane you can find in space.

Flipping several switches along the mainframe beside the controls, Fox brought the fighter's wings down to sit close beside the hull while running a short diagnostic on the engine. The blue and red meters showing the engine power were both standing proud at a hundred percent. If Slippy's famed G-Diffuse upgrade worked, this was going to be a ride to remember.

"I'm headed into the storm, Rob," he spoke into the frequency while routing all available power to the engine. "Might mess with communications so we'll be out of touch for a bit."

_"__Affirmative,"_ the android responded. _"Should I alert First Mate Hare of your temporary absence?"_

"It'll only be temporary." He tightened his gloves around his hands and cracked both sides of his neck, getting ready for a dash through hell, so to speak. "Just a quick sprint through the storm and I'll be home before dinner gets cold."

_"__My humor meter suggests I would be laughing if I were programmed with a template of sentient emotions."_

"A simple _Ha-ha_ will suffice, Rob."

There was a brief pause in the frequency.

_"__Ha-ha,"_ Rob eventually answered in his monotone.

Fox felt himself shake his head in pity. "Alright, I'm starting my run. Wish me luck."

_"__I wish you luck."_

The android's face disappeared from the radio video screen. Stretching his fingers one last time, Fox slowly placed his hand upon the throttle and brought the Arwing out of hover and into a direct route with a small, dark funnel burrowing into the storm cloud.

"Let's stretch your new legs, shall we?"

With that, he tightened his grip around the throttle and—without thinking about the consequence—he threw it forward into full gear.

His back instantly sunk into his seat as a sudden extreme source of g-forces pummeled him, along with the heavy rush fuming from the engine behind him. It would've been like head-butting an incoming train if he hadn't tightened his harness to the extent he could barely breathe. But what met his wide open eyes was a regular trip into another dimension.

The Arwing accelerated to its new and improved top speed and barreled into the cloudy funnel and past several stray lightning bolts like a bat _into_ hell. He steered and flew through the tubular funnel like a bobsledder down an icy slide. The muscles in his face felt as if they were melting under extreme pressure, but his eyes refused to blink, just as his lips couldn't stop smiling.

After nearly a dozen pull-ups, dives, and barrel rolls, he eventually passed through a thin sheet covering the path ahead and entered into a domain that could've well been the division between this world and the next. It was a cavern-like opening between a purple cloudy ceiling and a matching cloudy floor. There was perhaps five hundred feet worth of open space in between and all of it was housing a party of dancing lightning bolts. He kept the throttle engaged to full as he sped through at a godlike speed. Bolts intertwined together all around him, some appearing to be even dancing about like sister tornadoes. Electrodes occasionally brushed around his craft but failed to touch the surface. Even if they did, they wouldn't have done any real damage. The armor on the fighter was shockproof, however, if a bolt made a direct hit over the cockpit…

_Bah, what are the odds of that?_

But the electricity wasn't all that was making him think twice about this super venture into the purple eye. There was something in his brain that was starting to twitch, causing his eyes to blink and break focus.

_Somebody's watching you, Fox._

There had to have been, but he wasn't giving any signs that he knew so. This strange instinct that had saved his life (and Slippy's on several occasions) was back and telling him there was something close by, up within the clouds. He scanned the purplish ceiling for anything unnatural. There was nothing, as far as he and the radar could tell.

_You're not gonna surprise me this time…_

"Rob, do you read me?"

His call in the radio was met with only static. The electrical currents around and across the storm were screwing with most of everything, even a bit with the radar. The virtual diagram of the purple eye was barely functional beyond fuzzy static, but Fox could barely pick out the green dot that represented him and his close proximity with a massive tower-shaped opening at the center of the storm. That'd be his best bet to draw whoever this stalking ghost was into the open.

_Same guy who shot the last of that bandit party from before?_

_I bet my bottom dollar._

He flew into another funnel within the thick pocket of clouds, but just as he was making his entrance, a rapid stream of green light screamed out like kamikaze pixies from fantasia and caused him to let up on the throttle and duck the nose of his fighter down.

"What the—"

Something flew over him, like an owl at night he failed to see coming, and failed again to see leaving. He sharply turned his head to look out the fighter's rear glass. There was a small, barely noticeable swirl in the wall of clouds right behind him. A ship's exhaust must've made it. Whoever just tried to shoot him down was still here.

"Rob, I got a problem here. Do you read me?"

Again, there was only static in the radio.

_"__Crap." _He continued his course through the funnel, keeping his speed a little below the previous sprint. The Arwing's radar was on the fritz so he kept his eyes scanning the cloudy tunnel all around him, keeping a sharp eye on his rear in case the random challenger attempted to follow him through the tunnel.

He was following him alright, but not behind him. Something passed by the corner of his eye to the left – there was a temporary gleam of blue that must've belonged to an engine. But it suddenly disappeared once another lightning bolt shot past the space between him and the blue glow, temporarily causing him to squint his eyes. The moment the bolt passed, there was another sound of laser fire and another stream of green shot by, just missing the hull of the Arwing. And like before, he heard something fly over him with a _woosh, _and then saw another recent swirl in the wall to the side.

There wasn't silence this time afterwards. Instead, there was a subtle, sadistic laugh that echoed into the radio frequency.

_I know that laugh…_

"Who are you?" he spoke into the radio, knowing whoever made the laugh could hear him on a shortwave frequency.

_"__Guess who, you little brat."_

He felt his teeth instantly grind together as a hidden pocket of anger began swelling on the inside of his head like a tumor. "Pigma, you bastard."

_"__You come out of your hole for a stroll?" _The hog's face suddenly arose past the static in the radio's video screen, that disgustingly saggy, pink, psychotic expression of his twisting around his cruel features. _"Isn't it a little past your bedtime?"_

"Go soak your head in mud, you coward."

_"__Aw, you getting mad, Foxy? You gonna cry like you did when you found out Daddy got burned alive?"_

"Where are you, you piece of filth?" he yelled, grinding his teeth so hard he could have well cracked one of them.

_ "__Look behind you."_

He turned his head around, and on cue with Pigma's words, he saw a red and white ship flying just fifty yards behind him. Its wings were folded close to its hull while the sight of red blade-like G-Diffuser capsules on each side of its hull revealed it to be a repainted Arwing – Pigma's stolen fighter. The tip of its pointy nose had begun to glow a familiar green.

_"__Start dancing, Foxy."_

He cursed and immediately turned sharply to the side, just in time to dodge Pigma's volley of laser bolts. He pushed the throttle back up to full and sped into the funnel, Pigma's Arwing giving chase not so far off from his tail.

"It's either you kill me or I kill you!" Fox yelled as he brought his weapons systems online and the front of the cockpit glass suddenly became lighted with the green HUD and target reticule. "Try not to miss this time, fat boy."

_"__You're dancing with the big boys now, Foxy." _The hog cracked into a hissy snigger which ended with a piggish snort and another rapid stream of green lasers.

Fox barrel rolled around the volley, seeing the lasers scream just inches away from above his cockpit. Pigma was unloading a relentless storm, sending more green fire at him while the lightning bolts of the storm continued filling the tunnel with flashes of blue.

"Come and get me!" Fox yelled while feeling his adrenaline begin to kick into full gear. "What's the matter with your aim, _eh?_ You afraid of a little lightning?"

_"__I'm gonna enjoy sewing those pretty little lips shut!" _A bloodthirsty rage could be heard in the hog's violent voice. _"Stay still and let me—"_

There was a sudden explosive flash of blue that came from ahead, and without warning, a lightning bolt suddenly ricocheted from Fox's wing, causing him to spin out. But the moment he forced the Arwing back under his control, he spotted another blinding flash explode where Pigma's Arwing had been. The bolt that bounced off of him appeared too had slammed directly into the hog's tinted cockpit glass and the ship suddenly began spinning out of control while the static cry of Pigma crackled through the frequency. The hog disappeared into the clouds off to the side. Fox slowed his own ship and brought it around in a quick U-turn and stopped to a hover. His ears listened to the radio for any sign of life while his eyes kept a sharp watch over the spinning funnel behind him.

Pigma was gone, his eyes spoke.

_Pigma's still here,_ his conscious spoke louder.

Turning around, he started his flight up again down the funnel, making his way towards the eye of the storm. The funnel had begun to spin quicker and quicker the deeper he traveled, soon causing his eyes to spin and his head begin to feel dizzy.

_Go for a stroll through a hurricane in space…_

_ …__Great idea, moron._

"Peppy's gonna kill me," he murmured.

_"__Not if I kill you first!"_

He turned to the left just in time to suddenly be met with a thunderous bang. He joggled violently in his cockpit upon slamming into the side of Pigma's ship, which had seemingly reappeared from out of nowhere. They were suddenly flying through the funnel neck and neck, Pigma violently grinding the side of his Arwing against Fox's hull. Fox looked up and could barely see past the heavy dark tint to where Pigma laid strapped in his cockpit.

_"__How about a hug from Uncle Pigma?"_

There was a sharp sound that resembled a knife stabbing into metal, and before Fox could wonder what the sound was, he suddenly felt his abdominal quickly press back into his flight chair, just as a giant, sliver coated blade with serrated edges stabbed past the side of the cockpit and came inches from cutting open his belly. Sparks popped from severed wires while the lights of the cockpit suddenly joggled and began going haywire.

_"__Time to go for a spin!"_

The hog's blade-weilding Arwing suddenly accelerated its engine while the long, serrated blade sprouting from the right side of its hull in front of the wing kept plunged into Fox's fighter. When they had gained more speed, suddenly, Pigma had violently twisted his craft in a barrel roll with Fox still attached by the blade. The force of the spin made him feel like his body was melting from the top up, g-forces pummeling him from above and causing his teeth to grind and his eyes to close painfully shut.

The roll caused the Arwing to fling off on the opposite side like a piece of meat sliding from a slippery fork. Lightning bounced randomly all around him and he could see nothing. The shredded horizontal hole left over by Pigma's blade had finally finished spewing sparks and the power to the entire fighter was joggling on and off, in trouble of failing completely.

_Power…_

Slippy's upgrade brought about a quick solution. Flipping several switches beside the red and blue power meters on the diagnostics screen, he managed to switch some of the extra power in the engines to the cockpit, suddenly—as if like magic—bringing both bars to full and the lights around the controls bright and stable. Pushing up the throttle for a quick boost, the Arwing stopped spinning and leveled out.

_We're not done yet, little piggy._

Past the cloudy atmosphere, there was a momentary gap of spaces which revealed a hazy, but barely clear enough blue glow that must've belonged to an Arwing.

"My turn…"

Bringing the throttle up, he accelerated past the mist and began chasing after Pigma's wake. He flew forward at full speed and dove around the sudden blasts of lightning until he managed to arrive back to the funnel. Without a second thought, he dove into the funnel and unleashed an immediate volley of green onto Pigma's tail.

_"__Wo-wo-wo! Cease fire, you pussycat! Wait!" _a new voice suddenly pierced the frequency after the fighter barely dodged the volley with a panicky barrel roll. _"What are you doing? You bust me out jail just so you could use me for target practice, you jerk?"_

"Who the hell is this? Lambardi, is that you?"

Falco's face arose into one of the four video screens, his expression beaming with confusion. Fox leveled out the side of bird's commandeered Arwing which flew down the funnel at a steady pace. He could see his face behind the cockpit glass, the raptor's predator eyes glaring back at him with a grudge.

_"__What the hell are you shooting at in here?" _he spoke with all the sarcasm his cocky voice could muster. _"The wind?"_

"What are you doing in one of my ships, you thief?"

_"__Who you calling a thief, asshole? You _hired _me, remember? I was flying around for fun when I see you dive headfirst into a purple eye like a jackass, and then you show up outta nowhere and try to blow holes in my—"_

"Alright-alright, just shut up! What happened to Pigma?"

_"__What happened to who?"_ the bird sounded as clueless as his face looked flabbergasted in the video screen. _"The other guy? You mean he isn't one of yours?"_

"Of course he isn't mine, you idiot! He's trying to kill me!"

As if the answer just flew out and tried to tackle Falco in the face, a third Arwing, the one painted in red and white, flew from the front of the funnel and threw out a quick fury of rapid green laser bolts. Fox darted to the side and Falco did the same on reflex, just as Pigma's fighter flew threw and soon darted through the funnel's wall and back out of sight.

Fox growled in aggravation. "I'm gonna enjoy hearing you squeal, you fat pig!"

_"__Aw, you brought a snack for me, Foxy?"_ Pigma's voice and face arrived back into the video screen. _"I could use some chicken tenders while I'm busy roasting your hide."_

A quick laugh suddenly busted past Falco's beak in the neighboring video screen. _"A pig?"_ the bird spoke past the laugh. _"Ah, man, you've gotta be kidding me."_

_"__So you got yourself a pet parrot, have ya, Foxy?"_ The hog counterattacked with a piggish snort. _"And you taught it to talk, too, eh? Polly wanna crackah? You wanna crackah, Polly?"_

Falco's face in his screen suddenly lost every bit of its previous humor and gradually grew into something a lot more hostile. _"You just signed your death warrant, Porky. Fox, you wanna help me kill this guy?"_

"As long as he ends up dead."

_"__You boys are in over your head." _Pigma started to squeal a psychotic laugh. _"You wanna know how many dumb kids like you I've killed in the past twenty years?"_

"Is that sweat around your eyes?" Fox barred his teeth in a ferocious grin. "Or are you getting ready to cry for the camera?"

_"__I'll be laughing while you burn, Foxy."_

"Try it, meat sack."

There was a sudden scream through the audio amp, but rather than another a squeal from Pigma, a bright flash of light shot out from the rear and detonated right between both Fox and Falco's fighters.

_"__You lousy piece of—!"_

"Move! He's right behind us!"

On cue, they both accelerated to full speed and pushed farther into the funnel. The walls were starting to cave in and lightning was starting to barrage the space brushing past their wings. Larger flashes had begun to shine through the cloudy architecture ahead.

"The eye's just up ahead," Fox spoke to Falco through the frequency. "Keep tight. We'll be able to draw him out in there."

_"__The eye of the purple eye?" _Falco laughed, disregarding another stream of green lasers buzzing close beside his cockpit. _"You think going into the heart of this thing will make things easier? Wow…"_

"The eye of the storm is the calmest part, moron."

_"__Are you…" _The bird stopped and frowned in the video, appearing like an idiot. _"Oh, uh… right… I knew that."_

_"__Smile for the camera, kiddies!" _Pigma suddenly squealed.

There was a long _beep_ accompanied by a red flash in the cockpit.

Falco's virtual face instantly tensed up. _"Ah, crap! Look out!"_

"Break off!"

The blast immediately exploded just feet away and shook the Arwing and caused the hole to the left side of the cockpit to spew more rabid sparks. Looking to his left, he suddenly felt his face grow limp at the sight of… clouds.

"Falco?" he spoke through the radio. "Falco, can you hear me?"

_ "__Just you and me, Foxy!" _Pigma squealed, sadistically._ "I've been looking forward to this."_

Another stream of green barreled by from behind. Two shots bounced from his right wing in a ricochet, luckily leaving behind just a couple smudges.

A fire had begun to fuel his veins which pumped across his entire body beneath Fox's hide, so much his eyes had begun to blur as a massive adrenaline rush flew from his limbs and into his head, causing his furry complexion to transform through a feral ferocity.

_He's not killing us both, Dad._

His hand suddenly lurched up and latched onto the throttle and pulled it all the way down. A nearly indescribable force of motion tried to reach in its invisible hand and tear out his body past the cockpit glass, so violently it should've knocked him unconscious while tearing the fighter's wings off. In barely a moment's time, something flew past like a crazy bee, and right when he saw Pigma's face past the tint of the rogue Arwing—the hog's face watching him pass by with sheer disbelief—he threw the throttle back to full and dashed right behind Pigma's tail.

_ "__You gotta be—" _the hog yelled, an inch away from being speechless. _"That's impossible!"_

Pressing down on the trigger, hell was instantly unleashed on the hog's fighter. Shots barreled into the rear and erupted flashes and sparks, but out of panic, Pigma managed to pull up hard and barely ascend above the remainder of the killing blow.

Fox's teeth were biting down so hard it would've felt like he was breaking his own jaw if it wasn't for every single cell in his body screaming at him to finish Pigma off. He remained stuck on the hog even as they passed through the cloudy ceiling and into the thick of the lightning covered haze. He fired his lasers and turned the mist around the Arwing green. Pigma's craft was perhaps twenty feet in front of him and was barely visible, but as if his eyes had mystically inherited some sort of heat-vision, Fox was able to focus on the target even as it flew up and down and side to side like a hyperactive circus pilot.

_"__Goddammit, you little—!" _He could barely hear Pigma's voice erupting in panic and desperation. _"Lay off you… Just give me a chance!"_

As if an invisible rope were tied between the hog's tail and Fox's nose, he was able to follow him throughout every ridiculously rapid, rolling maneuver that only a fighter as flexible as an Arwing could pull off in the midst of a violent hurricane.

_Up, Dive, Roll, Sharp Left, Sharp Right, Boost, More rolls…_

He continued firing bursts which occasionally bounced from the heavy armor of the hog's wings. It didn't matter the pig had over two decades of experience at the seat of a legendary fighter. Fox was outgunning him with godlike reflexes, catching every quick twist and every turn the exact millisecond they happened.

_"__You're not getting me that easy, Foxy!"_

A powerful draft flew out from the engine of the rogue Arwing, causing Fox to dive quickly down to avoid the violent backwash. He finally blinked and looked up and barely could see Pigma making a break for the brighter space dead ahead, throwing his fighter into full gear.

_Running away from Foxy, little piggy?_

Fox boosted up to full speed in an instant chase, following the distant blue gleam of the rogue Arwing's engine. Bolts passed by him like electrodes getting ready to transport him back into the past. But when the blasts had suddenly become so strong and destructive there would soon be no free space to travel through untouched, the clouds had suddenly vanished from his view and something almost too unbelievable to be real opened up to his eyes.

The eye of the storm sat within a massive spinning chamber with veins of electricity twisting and flowing up and across its massive walls. The air was empty and clear surrounding a gigantic spinning vortex at the center which resembled a skinny tornado.

Pigma was flying just up ahead towards the vortex. Fox shook his head from the storm's wonder and tightened his hands on the controls, chasing the hog who was finally in the open… a clear-cut target.

The rogue Arwing passed behind the vortex's right side in a sharp turn, momentarily disappearing. It arose from the left side and rushed forward with a powerful boost, charging head first down Fox's path. Without a sound in the radio, Pigma unleashed his fury and Fox returned his own share. Showers of green screamed across the air around his ship, some coming so close it turned Fox's peripheral vision dark from temporary blindness. Two bolts skinned the armor around his hull while several shots of his own came just barely short of piercing straight through the hog's hull.

The pass came and Pigma's fighter dashed by. Fox continued accelerating forward towards the vortex and soon turned around with his cockpit glass brushing past some of its ghostly surface.

_"__That Arwing doesn't make you an ace," _Pigma hissed past the frequency along with his heavy breathing. _"It only makes you a better kill."_

Fox finished passing around the vortex and suddenly, he felt his eyes nearly leap out from his sockets at the shining gleam of Pigma's fighter. It was charging like a raging bull with just a hundred yards of space between them. Something leapt up from its hull – several long, sharp shapes flung forward in the form of blades, like the one the hog had stabbed his craft with from before. A total of four leapt out and pointed forward past the rogue Arwing's nose and transformed the entire fighter into a flying multi-bladed sword.

_"__I'm gonna cut you into pieces, you little brat!"_

Fox pulled up hard on the controls and saw Pigma accelerate into a head-on collision like a psychotic jouster. But suddenly, from out of nowhere, there was a powerful blast of light that exploded right beside the hog's hull. Like a miraculous missile from heaven, Pigma was cast away just before he could stab into Fox's underbelly.

_"__Wo…" _a once lost voice re-entered the frequency. _"Uh… that must be the button that shoots missiles, I guess."_

"Falco!" Fox spoke past a jittery laugh of relief. "Where have you been, you lazy jerk?"

_"__Just taking in the sights, pussycat." _The bird arrived back into his previous video screen while his fighter zoomed in from the nearby space. His eyes were looking from side to side, searching for something inside his cockpit. _"I meant to shoot a bomb, but I can't find the button that—"_

As if on cue with the bird's unprepared stupidity, another flash flew out from his fighter's hull, this one moving slower than a standard missile in the shape of a glowing orb of red. Fox turned his craft quick enough to dodge the bomb and watched it fly past his wing. But it was the moment he turned his head to the side, a familiar slivery gleam flashed into sight – Pigma was charging in for another joust.

_"__Finally!" _Falco spoke aloud, victoriously. _"So _that's_ the button for the bombs!"_

"Press it again!"

Thankfully, the bird instantly abided the hectic command and the flying red orb behind instantly detonated into a powerful blast. The radius instantly expanded and caused a powerful draft to slam into Fox's hull. But at the same time, Pigma's incoming fighter was knocked off course and spun out just over the top of his cockpit.

_ "__You crazy little bastards!" _Pigma roared in total anger while he regained control and flew back behind the vortex.

"Falco, get clear!"

The bird broke off to the side while Fox turned the Arwing and brought it into a path back towards the vortex.

"You feeling outnumbered, traitor?" he yelled past his gritted teeth. "No traps? No help? Where'd your fleet from Venom go? What do you got left, eh? What do you got left!"

_"__Shut up, you little freak!"_

The hog arose back into sight with the blades of his red Arwing still extended out before his nose with lethality dripping from their silver points. He boosted forward again in blind rage, starting another dead-on charge right into Fox's course.

The green target reticule in front of his glass soon was lined up with the rogue Arwing, a high-pitched _beep_ signifying a lock. Bring his thumb over a second trigger around the left handle, Fox felt his lips twist into a devious smirk.

"Hey, Pigma!" he yelled out into the radio. "Catch!"

Squeezing down the trigger, a yellow glowing missile shot out from beneath the Arwing's nose and screamed out like a giant firefly from hell. Pigma immediately opened fire while refusing to break his charge. His matching green lasers screamed across the missile, and soon, one of the bolts slammed into the missile's core and detonated it. Pigma's fighter barreled past the thick cloud of explosive energy, joggling from extreme turbulence and coming out the front. The moment he saw the black glass of the hog's cockpit reappear, Fox unloaded another volley of green which screamed and slammed into the hog's starboard side.

_Dead-on_

The lasers instantly blasted off thick pieces of armor plating on the blade-covered Arwing's hull and caused the engine to sputter and exhume a large packet of debris. A small blast from behind suddenly consumed both of the wings.

_ "__AHHH, CRAAAP!"_

The wings instantly flew off from the hull and the fighter instantly rolled out of control with the hog screaming as Fox flew by. Fox turned to look behind him as Pigma barreled closer towards the center of the eye, eventually slowing to a stuttering halt just a hundred feet away from the storm's core.

It was done. The hog's fighter appeared like a mangled piece of metal with its wings clipped off and the hull floating about with small spark storms sputtering past its wounds.

_This isn't over yet._

Bringing his Arwing around, he flew steadily towards the wreck site, keeping a sharp eye on its mangled remains. When he was within fifty feet of the desecrated star fighter, there was a sudden burst of green laser fire which shot past the intact nose gun on the motionless hull.

"You can kick and squeal all you want," Fox spoke aloud, knowing the hog was still breathing inside the ball of scrap. "It's over."

_ "__Screw… you," _the hog responded past his static filled video screen. From what Fox could see, Pigma was bleeding past his huge nostrils and hissing from likely burns sustained across his body. But even with all the pain enveloping his fat physique, his yellow eyes hadn't stopped glaring past the screen directly at Fox.

"You were one of them!" Fox felt himself break out in a furious hiss. "My father trusted you and you went and backstabbed him, you coward!"

_"__You gonna keep talking… Foxy?" _the porker responded past his loud breathing. _"Daddy did that a lot, too."_

"I'm gonna enjoy ending this."

_ "__Then quit jabbin and prove you got the stones, you spoiled little punk!"_

_"__McCloud, what the hell is this?" _Falco suddenly spoke, arriving to the rear of Pigma's wreck while Fox floated towards its starboard side. _"Just who is this guy? How do you know him?"_

"Not now, Falco."

_"__Hey, I think I deserve a straight answer, alright?"_

"Can this please wait after I'm done vaporizing him?"

_"__Is Polly getting hungry?" _Pigma suddenly spoke past a weak squeal. _"He your new best friend now, Foxy? You oughta… you oughta start feeding him crackers, eh?"_

_"__On second thought," _Falco immediately returned,_ "let me kill him."_

_"__Start feeding your pet like your daddy did to good ol Peppy, eh, Fox?"_

Fox glared down to Falco's video screen and kept staring until the bird looked down to his own camera and caught his eyes. His beak gradually grew limp and he returned to his usual, grumpy frown, while turning his head away, backing down.

Bringing his engines back on, Fox maneuvered the fighter to face Pigma's metallic coffin. Charging his lasers, he aimed the target reticule directly over the dark tinted glass where behind laid Pigma in the flesh.

"Here's a message from James McCloud, you murderer."

_"__Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk…" _Pigma continued to watch him through the video screen with his hateful eyes. _"Do it."_

Biting down his teeth, he slowly brought his thumb over the trigger, and while steadily exhaling, he began to push the button.

It was the moment the first laser bolt was fired from his guns that a light from above reached down and grabbed his attention, right before it exploded into a red cloud of energy. The force caused him to release his grip on the controls and shade his face from the blinding flash, all the while his already bruised up Arwing joggled hard from an explosive shockwave. There was a yell mixed together with static coming from the radio, and turning to look down the side of his glass, Fox managed to spot what appeared to be Pigma's ship hull falling down the enormous chamber of the storm and eventually disappear past the mist, his squeals eventually dying out as he gradually fell from out range of communications. But as the hog's voice vanished from the frequency, another voice entered in, as well as the sight of another ship entering the scene from high above.

_"__Can't let you do that, Fox."_

The voice instantly struck him with an icy feeling and he instantly looked up and could see the incoming ship with an engine that glowed a fiery red. But that was when he noticed something break off from its core, and quickly he realized it was two ships instead of one, each giving birth to thin pairs of "X" wings that crisscrossed through their white and red hulls.

_"__Who the hell is that?"_

"Falco, move!"

The first ship opened fire and released a rather short burst of red lasers, causing both Fox and Falco to react and speed around the vortex side by side, the two newest arrivals steadily flying down and following their path from a distance.

Fox found himself blinking, clueless of what had just happened. Was Pigma dead? Was it finished? Who the heck were these guys? Who's voice was that? He _knew_ that voice!

Turning his head to the left, he managed to pick out the sleek dark red plating covering the two enemy ships just passing the vortex from four clawball fields away on the opposite end of the cavern. They weren't attacking any more, but rather keeping a safe distance along their trail. Fox had seen this skeptical before in an old history documentary. Hundreds of years ago when space flight hadn't even been conceived yet, opposing "airplane" aces would circle one another numerous times to signify a temporary ceasefire.

But that wasn't all that struck his mind as "familiar". This whole situation felt unbelievably similar to Meteo – the moment when Pigma had him at gunpoint, and at the last second, the killing shot was deflected by a shadowy spectator.

"Wolf?" he spoke into the radio once the name arose up from his thoughts like a message in a bottle.

_"__Hello, Fox."_

It was him, but he could barely believe it. He began to stare into space and soon closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as the truth behind the whole picture was opened up to the spotlight.

"I'm such an idiot," he said, dimly, all the while maintaining his wide arch around the storm chamber. "It's been you the whole time, hasn't it? Corneria, Meteo, Bangelor…"

_"__Yes." _The wraithlike yellow eyes of the wolf arose into Pigma's previous video screen. The bluish-grey fur swelling his complexion wrapped around his cold, razor sharp gaze, which at this moment looked as calm and all-knowing as it did back in that saloon on Corneria, and then again at that intervention in Meteo. _"Corneria was an unfortunate intervention that was fortunately contained thanks to my colleague here." _Wolf nudged his head to the side while continuing looking down into his screen. _"And, no, there is no need to thank him for saving your life."_

_"__Greetings, Fox McCloud," _a new face replaced Wolf's, and this one instantly brought Fox back to Meteo – the multi-colored assassin, who now revealed himself to be none other than a green-scaled chameleon.

_Well, now everything makes sense…_

_"__I've been meaning to apologize for my clumsy marksmanship back on Meteo," _the lizard spoke in a sophisticated, surprisingly polite voice, all the while one of his bidirectional eyes kept watch on his flight path, the other acknowledging him in the video screen._ "Flesh wound to the shoulder, yes? I hope you understand it wasn't intentional, yet nevertheless, I'm glad it wasn't fatal."_

_"__Well, son of a bad egg…" _Falco suddenly broke his silence, dramatically, while flying steadily beside Fox's right wing. _"You're Leon Powalsky, ain't ya? The 'Great Leon'? You slippery, cross-eyed, egg-stealing chameleon! Thought you were just a ghost story?"_

_"__Ah." _The politeness in the lizard's voice suddenly lessoned in sophistication and grew shallow. _"Another one of these annoying birds. I must admit I'm growing tired of seeing these disgusting things fluttering about the stars. Would it be so hard for them all to simply just… _fly away?"

_"__Prejudice, eh? You know the story goes your momma got her eyes pecked out by a falcon and you vowed from then on to kill every bird whoever crossed those beady little eyes." _Falco turned to face the video feed and cockily lifted his hands, innocently, and started grinning into the camera. _"You can see me, right? I'm not flying away."_

_"__So it would seem." _Both of Leon's beady eyes were now focused on his own screen. _"Boss?"_

_"__Leon, my friend, please," _Wolf intervened. _"This isn't a violent confrontation. This is just a civil exchange between two unaffiliated parties."_

"Falco, stay out of this."

_"__Whatever."_

_"__Fox, there are things you and I need to discuss."_

"Yeah, there are." He stopped staring out to the distant red fighters and started glaring down to where Wolf watched him past the video screen. "Why don't you start explaining why you're sheltering the man who's responsible for my father's death?"

_"__An agreement for protection," _Wolf explained, professionally. _"One made some time before your father's last mission."_

"Did you have anything to do with the ambush?"

_"__No, Fox, I swear to you I had no knowledge of a legitimate betrayal within your father's company. If I did, I would have likely forwarded a warning to him."_

"For a price, I'm guessing."

The wolf's expression failed to change, but his answer was easily perceivable through his pause. _"Most likely."_

"You opportunistic sonofabitch."

_"__Fox, I had no reason to help your father out of the gratis of my heart. Dengar came to me first with an acceptable proposal and I accepted. Business is not intended to be personal."_

"You made it personal."

_"__If you truly believe that, than I apologize."_ Wolf casually adjusted himself in his seat and momentarily looked up from the screen to watch the eye of the storm outside._ "But right now I'd like to talk about another contract solely concerned with you."_

"Why are you doing this to me?"

_"__It isn't me who is trying to kill you," _Wolf explained. _"It's my employers, and it'd be unwise to think I'm the only gun out in the void hunting for you – just the one who managed to find you first. Your bounty is astronomical, Fox, _doubled_ the amount your father's was worth."_

"What does Andross want with me?" Fox began to look out at the storm as well, something about it reminding him of Venom itself. "I'm not out for his head. I'm out for Pigma's. _He's_ the one to blame for all of this! I don't give a rat's ass about that monkey or his empire."

_"__You can say that you don't give a damn, Fox, but the truth is you do. I'm sure you've wondered by now whether or not Pigma sold out or was bought out." _Wolf had begun to look deeper into the screen, his yellow eyes transforming into a darker gold from the red lights inside his cockpit. _"He was _bought _out, Fox. Venom offered him a reward and he gave his signature. Pigma betrayed your father but he isn't the reason your father is dead. Andross is, and now he wants the entire McCloud family out of the picture."_

Fox felt his blood temporarily stop flowing through his veins, his face struggling to contain the revelation of the betrayal—the truth, as spoken through the cold voice of Wolf, and he couldn't help but believe him.

Pigma was just a puppet. Andross was the puppeteer.

"I didn't want this," he said while feeling his pulse begin to rise with a sudden influx of fear.

_"__Then perhaps you should have thought this through before jumping into your father's boots."_

Out of a frantic snap in his mind, Fox suddenly threw his arm out and slammed his fist against the side of his glass shield, causing several lights around the controls to joggle. "I didn't have a choice!"

_"__Fox, you're stuck in the storm regardless of what your intentions were before." _Wolf appeared to sit back in his seat, putting off a calmer, less devious aura. _"I understand the situation well, perhaps even better than Venom's Black Sector who are currently deploying spies and contracting highly trained killers with the intent of finding you, and killing you."_

Without control, Fox reached up his hand and gripped the hair between his ears. His eyes squeezed shut and he began to breathe out loud, the heavy buildup of stress and the overwhelming reality of an entire empire scouring entire worlds to purge his bloodline.

_They're gonna get you eventually, Fox…_

_"__That is why they hired me," _Wolf continued, looking surprisingly sympathetic in a detached sort of way. _"But that isn't the reason why we're talking instead of fighting."_

"What are you talking about?"

_"__What is this between us both, Fox?" _Wolf relaxed farther back into his seat while casually steering his X-shaped fighter with one hand. _"War is my field of expertise and you're currently standing on that same field. But that doesn't automatically make us competitors. Our alliances are forged from mutual benefits and cooperation, not flags and governments. Nations will fight and destroy themselves based off of differences in ideals, but _we_ do not endorse such pointless quarrels, in fact, we profit from them."_

"I don't believe this," Fox answered, feeling his tongue begin to grow numb. "You're asking me to join you after everything you just told me?"

_"__We're soldiers for hire, Fox, not slaves to the will of some emperor or general." _Wolf temporarily chuckled at his own words from behind his closed snout. _"We make our own decisions, choose when and when not to fight. This contract concerning you isn't a story carved in stone. It can be amended, changed or even abandoned, if necessary. I look for opportunities within opportunities. I see a valuable prospective ally in you more than I see a target for profit. _

_"__Imagine it, Fox… We were both born for this world. Combining our strength will eliminate the competition – monopolize the industry totally in our favor. Entire worlds will line up and pour rivers of gold right into our pockets. We will be _invincible."

_"__Uh-huh. Yeah. Surrrre." _Falco suddenly intervened from his previous silence. _"Hey, McCloud? Quit listening to this guy. He's got 'liar' written over his forehead."_

_"__You'd be welcomed as well, Mr. Lambardi." _Wolf's attention shifted to acknowledge the punk bird. _"This situation with your old gang could be easily fixed if you simply allowed us to help."_

_"__Yeah, right. Help? Guess who also told me that… My gang."_

_"__I'm not a pirate, Falco. My word is my source of honor."_

_"__And just what kind of honor would that be?"_ another voice belonging to a veteran entered the scene.

Fox instantly turned to look out the side when, from out of nowhere, two Arwings—_his_ Arwings—arrived into the storm's eye. Both Peppy and Slippy's faces arrived onto the two remaining video screens.

_"__Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Wolf O'Donnel." _Peppy spoke into the frequency, making his presence clear. _"Thought I recognized that voice. Shoulda known that was you stalking that bar back on Corneria."_

_"__And if isn't Peppy Hare the Intrepid," _Wolf responded past an unimpressed smirk. _"How's the leg healing?"_

_"__You know how it is, O'Donnel. Broken bones can be fixed in a few weeks. But reputations… those take generations to heal."_

_"__Very poetic. Perhaps it'd be a good time for you to retire, build a house on the beach, spend the remainder of your days working on that novel you've always wanted to write."_

Peppy softly chuckled into the frequency. _"You're not gonna eliminate the competition that easily, Wolf."_

_"__Can't say I didn't try to be diplomatic." _The cold wolf turned his attention away from the screen and to front of his cockpit._ "Never was my strong side, come to think of it."_

_"__Nice prototypes you've got there," _Peppy continued his small-talk, both him and Slippy continuing their flight ahead around the chamber's axis, Wolf and Leon still cruising on the opposite side. _"See Venom is trying desperately to tip the scales for their investment."_

_ "__An investment worth investing."_

_ "__That old grumpy monkey always did enjoy throwing shit at us."_

Again, Wolf gave an unimpressed smirk. _"To eliminate an arrogant old competitor such as you? Of course not, Peppy. You need shit wrapped in tinfoil to take you down."_

_"__Why are we listening to this freak and not blowing holes in him?" _Falco suddenly interjected.

_"__He's got a point, Fox," _Slippy finally spoke up. _"Four on two. You wanna take em?"_

Fox was stuck watching Wolf's ship fly on the opposite end of the chamber. It was so simple, he thought, yet so impossible to pursue. But killing these two hunters wouldn't eliminate the hunt altogether. More would come, and he and Peppy, Slippy and even their new acquaintance, Falco, would suffer until their private end of days. Help was what they needed. Help from a person who knew the enemy and knew the shortcuts to safety.

Help from a wolf who knew only of death, and most likely nothing of compassion.

_ "__Star Wolf will show you the way, Fox,"_ the wolf spoke in calm. _"Don't throw away your only chance. You don't know what's waiting for you out there."_

Fox momentarily closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them, he glanced down to the four faces watching him, all waiting to hear or see an answer.

"At least now I know the names of the sons of bitches who I'll be shooting at from now on," he finally answered and re-tightened his grip on the controls.

The wolf straightened himself in his seat, obviously in knowledge the exchange was coming to a close. _"Pigma will stay with me," _he said._ "Our agreement entitles I keep him alive, though out of respect of a once more than worthy competitor I will make sure that his new life isn't as comfortable as his previous."_

_ "__You're too kind, Wolf,"_ Peppy answered, shallowly.

_ "__Continue with your legacy, Fox," _Wolf continued._ "You still have much to see and not enough time to see it all. Learn from it, and be ready for what comes next. Because, I'll be watching… and I'll be waiting."_

"And I'll keep learning," Fox answered, no longer watching the screen but directly to where Wolf flew at the cockpit of his lethally vivid fighter. "I'll keep surviving, and so will my crew. Cus, that's just the name of the game, isn't it?"

_"__The game that never ends." _The wolf had begun to steadily chuckle into the frequency. _"I hope you're ready to play, Star Fox."_


	18. Chapter 17

**17 -**

Like after the dogfight over Bangelor, he was the last one to dock back into the Great Fox. The purple eye was drifting away along the axis of the far away star, Solar, and leaving the graceful white colossus to fly peacefully away.

Pulling himself free of his harness, the cockpit of the Arwing lifted up and he stood to find the rest of his "crew" standing at ease, awaiting his descent. He tried not to look at them, for he knew everyone of them were staring: Peppy, with his calm, battle-hardened gaze; Slippy, with those large, curious eyes occasionally shifting between him and Peppy, and finally their most recent prospective, Falco, who stood farthest to the group's right, arms folded and grumpy eyes boringly taking in the sight of Fox hopping down the wing of his fighter and hitting solid ground.

"I know what you guys are thinking," said Fox, lazily but formally enough to make himself sound serious. "What happened out there… there's not much I can say that you all don't already know."

There was a sudden high pitched snigger from Slippy. "You're apologizing?" said the toad, his wide lips smiling grandly across his green face, eyes squinting from between his lucky "S" cap. "You basically told that O'Donnel psycho to chew off his own tail! Badass… _totally_ badass, dude."

"Thank you, Slippy." He approached the toad and patted his hand upon his shoulder. "You didn't have much reason to trust us back on Meteo, but thanks… for giving us a chance, I mean. I won't forget it."

"C'mon, bro," the toad responded past a chuckle while patting him back. "Wouldn't wanna be anywhere else. Think I'm starting to actually enjoy this job… apart from the usual occupational hazards: the occasional assassin, suicidal bandits… you know. The usual." He reached up and tapped his cap, the old hole from the sniper rifle still brandishing itself along the upper loop of the "S" emblem. "Nice to have somebody with super powers watching my back."

Fox formed a slight smirk before turning his head to acknowledge the side of his recent buddy under fire. The bird's uninterested eyes were directed away to the side, a red sun tattoo branded upon the side of his feathery neck while a looped bundle of more feathers hung from the back of his crest like a pony tail.

Taking a step to the side while reaching his hand into his pocket, Fox stopped directly to the bird's front, causing him to finally turn his eyes to acknowledge him.

Falco watched him without sparing a blink and Fox continued to stare back. Lifting up his hand in good faith, Falco glanced upon it, and after a moment of ponder, he reached out and connected his feathery palm with his.

"Thank you," said Fox, simply.

"Don't mention it," Falco answered, keeping his expression as apathetic as Fox's. But the moment Fox released his grip Falco looked down and noticed what had been offered to him through the handshake – a silvery "SF" badge.

"You're welcome if you want in," said Fox, continuing to watch Falco's eyes, awaiting an answer.

The raptor's eyes between the red feathers continued to watch the pin, a sudden incursion of rogue thoughts raiding the dark corridors of his mind sheltered behind his lazy gaze. After another silent moment, the bird released a sigh past the hole-like nostrils on his yellow beak and reached out his hand, offering the badge back.

"Just one thing at a time," the bird spoke past his rather despondent expression. "Alright?"

"Alright," Fox gave a compliant nod.

As silence drifted back over the group, Fox turned to notice Peppy exchanging an otherworldly stare. He was about to step over to meet the first mate, but there was suddenly a beep which echoed from the ceiling accompanied by the team's fifth member.

_"__Great Fox is ready to go," _Rob spoke from the intercom. _"Standing by for your orders, Fox."_

"Why don't you two go get some supper while we've got the chance."

Slippy gave a nod and turned to begin making his way towards the cargo tunnel leading to the second deck elevator, Falco gradually bringing up the rear. When they had passed around the corner of the tunnel, Fox turned to see Peppy stepping up to meet him.

"I don't know, Pep," he began to speak, freely. "What he said… Wolf, I mean. He… he had a point. How can we be ready for what's coming? Maybe he could help us. Give us the edge we need to—"

"Fox, let me tell you something right now," the old veteran interrupted and his stare grew stern. "In this field, they're two kinds of people: the kind who think before they pull the trigger, and the kind who don't. Wolf O'Donnel is a sociopath—don't let him tell you otherwise. He's a wog, half-dog half-wolf, and they all come from a past filled with chaos you and I can't even begin to imagine. He'd shoot an innocent man in the head and burn down an entire village without second thought if it meant he'd fulfill a contract."

Fox shook his head, Peppy's words bouncing ineffectively off his ears. "I… I don't know, I—"

"Fox, _listen_ to me." Peppy took another step closer so that his words couldn't be brushed away. "This man is a manipulator. However much you think he's willing to compromise for your sake, his goal is to kill you and anything he says or does is meant to both sway and maneuver you into a trap. This isn't the first time I've dealt with a psycho outside textbook parameters. My 'honey-bunny' wife is just one example."

"He's not like anyone I've ever met," Fox explained, feeling a sense of futility consume his morale. "If he wanted me dead he would've killed me back on Corneria. Why didn't he kill me then? Why didn't he kill me back on Meteo? Why not back there in the storm? What's his contract entitle? Melting my brains with paranoia?"

"That's just how a sadist works, Fox," Peppy answered, folding his arms. "It's like a feral cat playing with a half-dead mouse. The game's over when you're dead."

Fox felt his eyes drift up from the space directly in front of him and he looked to Peppy, his ears and eyes acknowledging him the same way a pubescent pup would react to an adult retelling a scary campfire story.

"He's a wolf in sheep's clothing," Peppy went on. "A person who'll strike the moment you think you can't get any safer. Somebody who will patiently make you suffer and siphon every bit of life out of you until you're nothing but an empty shell, and only after that will he finally end you."

"It's just a game that never ends," Fox reiterated.

Peppy frowned at his words. "That's just classic psychological warfare meant to give you nightmares and turn you insane." The old hare gripped his shoulder with a hand. "Remember, your father represented something great. You represent his legacy. _Don't_ let this sonofabitch, or whoever or whatever else comes at us change who you are."

There was another echo of a beep overtop their heads which caused Fox to blink and glance up.

_"__Hey, Fox?" _Slippy's voice spoke from the nearby speaker, sounding a little unsure of himself, more than usual. _"We need you on the bridge. There's… something you gotta hear."_

"What is it?" Fox asked, confusingly. "Rob, what's going on?"

A silent pause followed, one which caused him to blink and glance back to Peppy. The look in the hare's face was obviously being fueled by the same strange feeling building up around the air.

Something big was developing.

_"__Message from General Pepper," _the android eventually answered. _"Priority one."_


	19. Chapter 18

**18 -**

The entire world had suddenly been flipped upside down.

Andross, the once deemed "exterminated" menace to all of Lylat, had just declared war on Corneria.

The general's message was brief, almost too simple to fathom, and Fox could barely believe any of it. Venom was invading in full force, so quick and sudden that they were already banging down Corneria's front door. There was no telling _how_ exactly they managed to secretly slip a knife to the planet's throat, but according to Pepper, they scored a one-hit wonder.

_Hurry, Star Fox_

"So you're telling me that stupid, psychotic, warmongering ape is still alive?" Falco was now yelling, loud enough Fox couldn't tell if it was sarcasm or actual anger swelling the bird's voice. "You're telling me he's been alive for the past forty freaking years and now he's declaring war on the whole system?"

"No," Fox spoke with a glare. "What I'm telling you is to shut up, and for love of god, let me think!"

"What's to think? You damn Cornerians lied to the entire system and now you're getting your tails bit off for it. Sounds pretty fair if you ask me."

Fox immediately rose from the gunnery seat and marched across the bridge, past Slippy typing at a computer terminal and Peppy who was occupied with the sight of the stars past the glass, and up to where Falco stood, who folded his arms like a regular street punk from Calidame's lower city ghettos.

"What makes you think I'm one of them?" Fox asked while looking the bird dead in the eye, disregarding he was half a foot shorter than him.

The vibrant blue raptor spat out air past his beak. "Oh, give me a break…"

"No-no-no, I wanna hear it." Fox refused to blink or look anything apart from deceivingly curious. "C'mon, humor me."

"Well, for one, with the attitude—"

It was after "attitude" when Fox allowed his arm to swing out with a fist, slamming it into the bird's jaw like a miniature wrecking ball, causing him to fall back.

"You're goddamn right I'm one of them!" he cursed the bird, his face no longer putting off a curious vibe, but rather hatred. "And I'll be damned if let a bunch of apes lay a paw on any one of them! You don't want in you can get off my ship. See how long you last out there with a war going on."

"So we're really going in?" Slippy spoke up, excitedly, turning around when the decision had seemingly been spoken.

"Damned straight we are."

"Hell yeah! Count me in. Time to make some serious money."

Fox turned back to look at Falco who had just risen from the ground, rubbing his jaw.

"You're either in or out," he spoke with unflinching eyes. "Which is it?"

The raptor's expression appeared to be on the verge of breaking out into a killing frenzy, but Fox wasn't sure if it was that or it was simply due to his naturally lethal complexion. He spent a moment silently staring him down as if to murder him through some imaginary psychic power.

But then Fox was suddenly met with a lightning jab that even he could not have been ready for. It swung around and slammed his own jaw, causing him to fade away for a moment.

"In," Falco finally answered, bringing his fist down at his side. "You give me my share of the reward, and I'll help save your little planet from the apes. Deal?"

Fox felt the tension in his jaw slowly dwindle to nothing and his frown level out. "Deal."

"And then I'm out of here," Falco quickly added while walking for the elevator. "So you'll have no more worries about 'insubordination' or 'noncompliance', whatever you wanna call it. I'll be gone, and I'll be rich. All a handsome guy like me could ever ask for."

Fox watched as the bird walked away, careless as usual. He soon felt his head turn to meet Slippy's pudgy features putting off a concerned vibe.

"I'll talk to him," said the toad and quickly moved to catch up to the cocky runaway rooster.

When Slippy had left, Fox turned his head again, but this time to see Peppy who had remained silent from the beginning of the general's message. He approached his side and could see the hare "pretending" to look out the window at space, when the spacey look in his eyes suggested he was staring into another kind of space.

"You alright?"

The hare glanced half way to him, but seemed to fall into another thousand yard stare. "Just thinking about history, is all," he answered.

Fox continued to watch the confusing look in his face sprout doubt inside him like daisies in spring. "What would he do?" he asked, after a small bout of silence.

Peppy eventually turned his head, sparing a slight smirk in the corner of his whiskery snout. "What you would do."

A slight release of tension caused Fox to momentarily smile, but he quickly looked down, trying to hide it, as if he were blushing.

"Just remember one thing." Peppy turned his body to face him directly, appearing more somber. "Whatever you do from here on out, whatever steps you choose, the world will be watching you. Every decision, bad or good, will have a price. You be sure you're ready to accept that."

The old hare emphasized that last sentence strong enough that it caused Fox's body to freeze and his ears to remain stagnant above his scalp. He eventually blinked, but refused to look away.

"These are the days that define a lifetime," said Peppy, and he turned to begin walking for the elevator, in a direct route for his fighter, Fox figured.

"I'm ready, Pep," he spoke to the hare before he took his exit.

Peppy halted and turned to look back at him. To Fox's surprise, he was grinning.

"Then let's get a move on, ace," the hare said. "We don't get paid on the hour for saving the world."

* * *

_This is dogshit…_

One second, betrayed. Two seconds, imprisoned. Three seconds, stuck doing a suicidal job to help some idiot try and save a world full of tongue-waggling dogs.

"How do I get myself into this crap?" Falco grumbled, all the while he stomped past the lounge and down the aisle, looking for the lift down to lower deck.

"Hey, wait up, Fruit Loop!"

It was that damned Slippy frog. The sound of his pubescent voice atop a "Yipee!" attitude was filling his mind with boiling lava.

_Just keep walking…_

_Just keep walking…_

_Just keep wa—_

"Hey!" the spastic frog spoke through a winded breath, supporting the consensus that the size of his gut wasn't all muscle. "Slow down, will ya? You'll make me croak up a lung."

"What do you want?"

"Relax, will ya?"

"No," Falco answered while maintaining his hard pace. "I won't relax. You know why? Because apart from the fact that I'm jumping into a war I got no business jumping into, I've got a hundred other wars I gotta worry about once I help save this stupid planet from a freaking Venomian invasion."

"Then why not stay?"

Falco instantly stopped, and he felt his brain skip a few seconds of life. "What?"

"Why not just hang around with us once this is over?" Slippy suggested. "We've seen you fight. Fox said he'd let you stay if you say yes."

The frog was looking up to him with his pool ball-sized peepers that seemed glazed like smooth-cut marble. The very look of them raised a secret paranoia in Falco, as if they belonged to some dumb baby duckling. It made him cringe his lips and his mind went fuzzy, almost enough to the point he would've enjoyed pecking each of them out with the end of his beak. "I don't _care_ what that orange-coated pussycat has to say about anything. I got around just fine before he decided to blow a hole through my front door."

The frog's annoyingly huge eyes suddenly appeared to grow confused. "But… it was a jail cell."

Falco bit his tongue and instantly turned away to continue his march, Slippy's flat feet clapping the floor as he rushed to keep pace.

The frog kept persisting. "Just think about it for a minute, man."

"Will you quit following me around, you goose?"

"I'm just trying to…" Slippy instantly cut himself off. "Wait a minute. _Goose?_ What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means you're following me around like a busted egg who can't find its mother."

"I'm not following you around! This is the way to the hangar."

"Then walk on ahead and stop talking to me."

"Well, then _slow down_ so I can walk on ahead!"

_"__No,_ I'll keep walking my speed. Get used to it, or get lost."

"But you just said to walk on ahead!"

"Then just walk on ahead!"

"I can't when you're walking so fast! Short legs, man. _Short legs!"_

"Fine! Whatever! Just shut_ UP!"_ Falco let out a breath, trying to calm his nerve. "Stop where you are. Count to ten, then you can start walking."

Slippy immediately halted in his steps. Seeing his chance, Falco broke into an even quicker march down the last stretch to the engineering lift. Slipping inside, he started rapidly tapping the controls.

_"__Oh, c'mon!"_ he heard Slippy complain as the lift doors were closing.

"Catch the next lift, Chick-lick."

_"__Chick-lick?" _the amphibian called back in total confusion. _"What the hell does that mean?"_

Like a sudden, unexpected hiccup, a chuckle arose from Falco's beak. It was the very moment he recognized the sound of the chortle and the feeling of it vibrating his throat he instantly closed his beak shut, wiping his face away of whatever smile was once there.

He was never one for smiling, nor was he one for flying blind right into the middle of a galactic war.

* * *

It was solar hour noon and the flash of the sun was seemingly cutting the entire planet in half right before his eyes. There was nothing quite as surreal as the sight of Corneria under the eye of the sun, like a milky blue and green marble half dipped in black ink.

The sight alone served a perfect metaphor for the invasion.

_"__Entering the atmosphere in thirty. Hold on tight."_

There was barely any sign of battle to be seen. But it was there, Fox knew. It was all around them, the dust of vaporized starships and hundreds of floating casualties. The first reports showed how one entire half of the Steel Collar had been decimated in the first couple hours of the fighting. What was left of the Cornerian fleet had fallen back to the opposite side of the planet, protecting the last remaining untouched cities from orbital bombardments while using the second half of the Spike defense stations to cover their flanks from attacking battleships.

The resistance on the ground was a similar tale. The reports coming through spoke of pure chaos, entire regiments seemingly shattered and scattered across the ground, now reduced to bunkering down inside strong points while Venom shock troops pummeled them endlessly with fire. The worse of it was coming from Janneral city, where rumors had begun drifting across the radio waves of the untold amount of destruction left over by a sisterhood of enemy dreadnaughts and how the local troop garrison had been completely cut off from supplies, being reduced to throwing rocks and improvised firebombs on incoming enemy tanks.

But as maddening it all felt, strangely enough, the entire invasion was considerably sloppy, even by Venom's "Vaporize first, ask questions later" standards. The ground forces were moving back and forth between cities, never spending enough time to do any permanent damage. The very look of it resembled an army of fire ants swarming an unlucky host, biting mindlessly and relentlessly. It was as if they were deliberately trying to harass the entire planet and everybody on it to the point of insanity instead of simply destroying it all. Either that or they were looking for someone, or something. Fox couldn't tell which.

They were flying through the scattered enemy blockade in orbit around the majority of the planet, completely undetected, like four mice sneaking past a pride-full of slumbering lions. The invasion force had just recently switched their full attention to what had been so far the longest city to have held out from the two day long siege. It was the ultimate prize gained from sacking Corneria, and now it was the team's contract to save it.

Calidame, the capital of Corneria.

Through the clouds enveloping the air, the flash of the Arwing's engines glowed blue while the hiss of its engine flew along with the wind.

"Open the wings."

Both the fighter's limbs extended to forty-five degrees, bringing the craft's instruments into attack mode. Below, the water of the ocean flew past like a sheet of glass, so untouched that the plane's underbelly reflected perfectly off its surface, along with the silhouettes of its three sisters flying in formation at its flanks.

_"__Picking up several trails from forty klics and closing," _Slippy's voice spoke from his video feed. _"Looks like our welcoming party."_

"Standby to engage," said Fox while double-checking his ship diagnostics (for the fourth time, he came to realize). "Check your G-diffusers. Everyone solid?"

_"__Fine as I'll ever be," _Falco responded, that hint of annoyance easily noticeable in his tone.

_"__Looking good across the board,"_ Peppy followed up. _"All systems are a go."_

_ "__Slippy's doing A-OK,"_ the toad checked in last, that obnoxiously large grin of his still blooming. _"Ready to rock, boss."_

_Ok… here we go._

He could've been a bit more ready, but Fox tried to ignore it. He _was_ ready. The course was set and the enemy was there. All he had to do was get the adrenaline juices pumping and unlock that hidden box of luck beneath his chest, and then there'd be nothing to worry about.

Getting stage fright before his first actual battle was normal, he was aware of that. But still, the idea of it embarrassed him… almost enough he wished he could "pause" this entire invasion to go grab a quick snack to calm his nerve.

_"__Readings check out positive,"_ said Slippy. _"Enemy ships inbound."_

"I see em up ahead." Fox fought through the distracting second-thoughts, taking a deep breath and bringing his full focus to bear. "Let's rock-n-roll, boys."


	20. Chapter 19

**19 -**

Upon the surface of the ocean there is a sudden explosion of light. Four ships suddenly detonate into small fireballs and fall like dead flies into the glassy surface of the water, erupting small tidal waves of a small, violent force.

Of the twelve remaining comrades there is an instant shockwave of panic which causes all to scatter like roaches in all directions. Four new ships arrive from the distance, flying just above the ocean in the shape of a diamond. Suddenly, they break off, one darting to the left, one to the right, one up into the air, while finally the small company's leader rushes fearlessly ahead straight into the cluster of scarlet starfighters.

_"__Break off and engage."_

A storm erupts at this point along the coast. A mixture of green and red fly through the air and collide into the panicked red ships. Several of these T-shaped fighters are transformed into small fireballs the moment the four white arrow fighters force themselves into the mixture of an instant dogfight. Ships scream into the air, twisting and turning, dodging streams of instant death. Others fall victim to the onslaughts of green laser fire.

_"__Slippy, get back here!"_

One of the white arrows begins to dash for the outside of the firefight's boundaries, two T-shaped fighters giving chase right behind.

_"__Slippy, watch out. Bogey on your tail."_

_"__Uh, I know? Little help here? Please?"_

Another arrow fighter breaks from the cluster and accelerates full speed to where the lonely arrow fighter is rolling around streams of red from two pursuers. The second arrow throws itself directly into the rear of the two predators and fires one quick burst of green point blank into the engine of the first, rolling around its crashing corpse to behind the second, repeating the same attack and rolling underneath the blast instantly blowing past its destroyed frame.

_ "__Be careful next time, Slip."_

_ "__Thanks, Fox. Bastards would've had me."_

The red "T" fighters suddenly begin to break off to the west, low to the current below, retreating towards where they believed to be land and reinforcements. The four arrows quickly re-engage, mercilessly sending out destructive volleys to their rear. They form once again a diamond formation and begin releasing a cooperative barrage of green lasers. Their shots rip all across the air around the fighters and soon reduce each to rubble gliding forward with smoke and flames billowing from their cores, until meeting their watery graves below.

The fire stops when the red squadron is suddenly erased from the equation. Their corpses float across the waves of the ocean behind, soon sinking into the depths to be never acknowledged again. The air becomes silent with the exception of the waves below beginning to grow more powerful and alive. The four arrows fly on, refusing to halt their charge into the fray ahead.

* * *

"Entering the city," Fox spoke through the radio. "Get ready, boys."

_"__Figures," _Falco suddenly added, cheekily. _"Only dogs and apes can make such a mess. Horrible. Absolutely horrible. _Boo-hoo."

It was the moment Fox was about to lash out at the smart-beaked birdbrain that suddenly the magnitude of things opened up to his eyes like an instant flame.

Fire was all he could see at first, the moment they crossed over the mountains and dashed over a wildfire claiming the flats outside the city's outskirts. Passing out through the envelope of smoke was the same as being exposed to a sudden gigantic mural of monstrosity point blank, without warning. The city had changed. It had suddenly been transformed from the white jewel of his memories to a smoke covered haze, flames poking up all across the vast metropolitan labyrinth of charred towers.

_"__Stay alert,"_ Peppy spoke in as they passed between three sister towers—the Ruthencort Law Firm buildings, Fox recognized—the air filled with the dust and debris of massive destruction sputtering from the surfaces of their once pristine architectures.

Fox felt his snout momentarily close and an aggravated breath grind past his lungs. Looking to the side, he could see past the visual of giant tracers belonging to anti-aircraft batteries, over at the horizon which marked the edges of the city, its air beginning to glow red, signaling the approach of a greater evil (if there really was a sight worse to suffer than this).

_"__Well, we made it," _said Slippy. _"Now what?"_

_"__May-day! May-day!" _Somebody new suddenly entered into an all-channel frequency that caused Fox to immediately sit up from his seat._ "This is Charlie One-six. Are there any aircraft in the area? Repeat…"_

There were several static echoes of gunfire and explosions mixing into the transmission.

_"__Repeat! Are there any friendly birds in the area? We need immediate support! Over!"_

"Charlie One-six, I read you," Fox spoke into the frequency. "This is battle wing Star Fox. What's your position?"

_"__Star Fox? Is this a—"_

There was more static piercing the line with several frantic screams of death.

"Charlie One-six, do you copy?"

White noise filtered into the frequency, no longer any echoes of screams or gunfire.

_"__Charlie One-six,_ do you copy?"

_They're already dead?_ the thought pierced Fox's mind like an icy dagger.

_"__Star Fox, Star Fox, do you read?"_ another voice replaced the old one. _"McCloud, do you copy? This is Commander Rosenburg of the battleship Essex. Please respond."_

He flipped a switch on the secondary video feed and found the face of a naval hound hunched down to the camera. "I read you, commander."

_"__Good to see you're still alive, kid. We've got a situation we could use your help in."_

"We're ready to provide support. Just give us the mission."

_ "__Venom troops have begun to regroup and converge on Calidame Central Academy. Reports state they're already within the perimeter and opening fire on the refugees inside."_

Fox instantly felt the muscles in his face melt. "The academy? What the hell do they wanna blow up a school for?"

_"__The building's infrastructure is strong enough to withstand a small orbital strike so everyone within the area treats it as a fallout shelter. You should know. You went there, if I'm right."_

"What about the students?"

_"__Current evidence suggests they're what the apes are after. They represent the future generation of leaders for this nation so this sort of wound won't heal over night. But all nearby friendly units are bunkered down in stalemates all across the grid and I can't reach anybody within range to provide immediate support, which is why I need you to get over there ASAP and reinforce the position for evacuation."_

_ "__Commander, we need more details on the enemy forces if we're going to commit to anything,"_ Peppy cut into the conversation. The sound of his voice made this entire exchange feel more like a business transaction in Fox's ears.

_"__We've got troops onsite now, but we lost communications all across that district. Apes have probably set up some sort of jamming device close by, so I'll need you to destroy it before moving in on the tower."_

_"__Commander, you still haven't answered our question," _said Peppy, annoyance tainting his tone. _"We won't provide support unless you give us a clear rundown on the—"_

"Peppy, just shut up," Fox interrupted, feeling his temper begin to boil. "Commander, what's the state of your forces at the academy?"

_"__We have one unit who was able to barricade the entrances and set up defensive positions along the upper levels. We lost contact shortly after they started taking fire, so we don't know the full extent on the enemy strength."_

"Sir, what about Charlie One-six?" Fox decided to bring up the last transmission. "Sounds like they could also use support where they are."

_"__They're the ones tasked with defending the academy."_

The reality of the hound's words instantly caused the current of blood in Fox's veins to momentarily freeze. "We're on our way."

_"__Just be careful on your approach. Eliminate the jamming device in the area and engage all hostiles at the tower to give the evac shuttles a clear path. Get it done, and I'll see about getting you guys a bonus."_

"We'll do this one for free, commander." In the corner of his eye, Fox could see the stern lack of enthusiasm painted over Peppy's features in his video feed.

_"__Roger that," _the commander answered._ "Good luck, McCloud."_

_"__Hey, Fox," _said Slippy once the commander's face vanished from the video screen. _"Looks like we get to save your old study buddies from Andross."_

He didn't answer back. The gunfire and screams that echoed through just before Charlie dropped from the grid was filling his mind with a powerful sense of haste.


	21. Chapter 20

**20 -**

They'd just entered the financial district when a mid-air explosion caught Fox's sight like a random firework blasting the air right in front of his face. In the distance, what looked like a naval transporter, one not much different from the one he and Peppy had used before to escape the Steel Collar, was spitting violent flames out from the remaining half of its hull. The light show ended when it slammed into the side of a random skyscraper and caused the entire upper floors to explode into an instant firestorm.

"Ah, man," he spoke as he watched in disbelief as heavy burning pieces of the building fell down to the lower city below. "That was the Ritz Center. Bill and I always went there on the weekends to watch movies."

_"__Stay focused, kid," _Peppy spoke past his ruminations. _"They'll be able to rebuild once we clean out the roaches."_

"They can't rebuild everything," Fox spoke his thoughts as he couldn't help but fall into a daze while seeing the darkening sky continue to swell up with the smoke of distant fires cascading across the hundreds of towers, from restaurants to law firms, schools to homes…

_"__Unbelievable," _Slippy spoke into the radio, his eyes gazing out at the destruction swelling the entire metropolis.

They descended lower towards the city skylines where several machine gun nests sprayed tracers out from windows into neighboring towers and down onto public boardwalks where tanks and soldiers alike (Fox couldn't tell which side they were on) scrambled around makeshift barricades of demolished hovercabs and rubble gathered up from across the platforms.

_"__Jamming tower in sight,"_ Falco spoke through the radio once they buzzed clear of the war-torn boulevard. _"Arming missiles now."_

_ "__Watch it, they got air defenses."_

Peppy's warning immediately came through in the form of flak that began tearing the air around them. Fox felt his body joggle from the concussive forces banging across the hull of the fighter, so hard it was as if grenades were exploding just inches away from the cockpit glass.

_"__Break off or they'll tear you to shreds,"_ Peppy yelled.

Fox cursed under his breath while turning the Arwing in a sharp turn, breaking for the buildings below to cover his tail from the enemy fire.

_"__Falco, break off!"_

He turned his head back towards his original course and could pick out one lone Arwing refusing to fade away from the flak. The ship computers outlined it blue, signifying it was Falco's ship.

_"__Falco, what are you doing?"_ Peppy continued to yell into the frequency.

_"__Just a few more seconds, pops." _In the video feed, the bird's face continued to joggle from violent vibrations as the enemy guns began to focus entirely on him alone.

_"__Are you insane?"_ Slippy called out from a safe course. _"That armor can't take that sort of fire—you'll be cut into pieces!"_

_"__Will you bozos just relax? You're messing with my groove."_ The bird's voice came through amazingly calm despite the concussions swelling his cockpit had grown to the point the wings would soon be snapped from his Arwing's hull.

"If you're trying to impress me you're doing a damn good job," said Fox as he watched glass-eyed as the air around Falco's fighter became a regular black cloud of flak.

_"__Impress you?"_ The bird cracked into a quick laugh past the bangs. _"Watch this…"_

A glowing missile suddenly flew out from the smog and screamed past the enemy fire. In seconds, there was a loud _boom_ accompanied by a small mushroom cloud floating up from where the jamming tower should've been. The flak suddenly disappeared. A direct hit.

_"__Thank you very much!"_ said the cocky mockingbird, victoriously. _"I'll be at the bar later today for autographs. Bring your friends."_

_"__Good going, Screaming Eagle,"_ Slippy spoke through a laugh.

Fox looked down to the video feeds and saw Peppy exchange a look to him. The old hare gradually shook his head, overall unpleased with Falco's dash through hellfire.

_"__Can anyone hear me?"_ a call suddenly came through the radio, mixed with some static. _"Did something big blow up? Who took the shot?"_

_"__That'd be yours _truly," said Falco with a smug grin riding along his beak. _"Falco _Lambardi."

_"__Yeah, very poetic. Who is this?"_

"We're here to provide support," Fox answered. "That you, Charlie One-six?"

_"__Charlie One…? No, this is Dobbey Richardson. Who the hell are you?"_

"Dobbs?" The name felt like a punch in the face when Fox heard it. It was Dobbs, the Doberman who about caved his skull in just before he was whisked off Corneria almost a month before the entire world did a loop-d-loop. "Where are you? What happened to the soldiers guarding the tower?"

_"__They're outside fighting. The apes got these weird tanks crawling up the building trying to get to us. Can you help? For god's sake, they're trying to kill us!"_

"Hold tight, we're on our way." Fox turned up the throttle bringing the fighter out of a temporary hover. "Everybody to the academy. Double time."

_"__Fox, we need to do a circle of the perimeter before jumping head first into this."_

"There's no time, Peppy! We're going in."

Falco and Slippy's fighters came around and took up position on both of his flanks. Peppy's fighter was the last to arrive as he set up to the rear. Fox could see the stone-like complexion of his rabbit features put off an even stronger expression of reluctance.

They flew on through the smoke of the recently demolished jamming platform and soon, several kilometers out between a family of burning skyscrapers, Fox could see the academy.

It instantly hit him with disbelief, as if he were seeing his own home roasting beneath an oven. Strike that—he _was_ watching his own home burn. Several parts of the tower exhumed glowing flames while others appeared black from previous explosions scarring its snow white paintjob. From numerous points across the mid-levels, he could pick out lines of tracers firing out from broken holes in the ruined structure, while an occasional blast would spew out from a nearby window like a firework exploding in someone's dorm room. The very display almost brought back a memory of a prank he and Bill pulled off on the girl's dormitory level a few years back.

_Bill,_ the name suddenly caused him to think and forget about the ongoing chaos. _Nader, Royce, Thomas, Rhyleen…_ Hundreds of names began poking up inside his head, springing to life like light bulbs hanging in a huge dark room.

_"__Use it, Fox," _Peppy suddenly spoke through the radio.

Fox immediately shook his face free of shock and awe. "Right," he answered, clearing his mind. "Let's do this."

His focus arose back from the dead lands and brought his eyes glaring out to the building.

_My home…_

_My goddamn home…_

_"__We've got creepy-crawlies moving up to the landing pads," _Peppy spoke the situation aloud. Fox could see several dozen tank-like machines latched onto the side of the building, sticking to the frame like leeches.

"Get them off the side of the tower!" Fox felt his teeth grind together as he tightened his grip on the controls. "Wipe them out!"

The four of them together formed a battle line. The moment two of the spider tanks crossed into his sights, Fox opened fire, the rest of the team following his lead. Their green volley ripped through the smoke rising from below and slammed into the buildings. Glass and stone exploded around the cluster of tanks, causing one trio to slip and drop into a long, slow freefall for the bottom of the city. Peppy and Slippy broke to the left side of the building while Fox and Falco screamed past the right.

"Falco, what the _hell!"_ Fox frantically yelled as they started their turn to begin a second pass. "Are you trying to blow up the entire tower? Shoot the tanks! _The tanks!_ Not the tower! They're people in there, you jackass!"

_"__I _was_ shooting the tanks, smartass! That was Slippy shooting the tower."_

_"__I didn't shoot it!" _the toad defended himself.

_ "__SHORT CONTROLLED BURSTS,"_ Peppy's voice broke through the loudest. _"Pick your targets and aim for the legs. Slippy, try and aim straighter from now on."_

_ "__Hey-hey, my accuracy's just fine. Yeah, I'm talking to _you,_ Falco."_

_ "__Then prove it, Chick-lick."_

_ "__Next time I hear that word I'll rig your G-Diffuse to spontaneously combust the next time you hop into that fighter!"_

"Slippy," Fox spoke aloud. "Shut… _up."_

Barring hard to the right, the opposite side of the building was in sight and fortunately "clean" of creepy-crawlies.

"Pep, take Slip and deal with the tanks on the bottom half. I've got the top."

_ "__Try not to miss this time, Butterfingers."_

_ "__Whatever, Fruit Loop,"_ Slippy grumbled back.

With Falco on formation at his right, Fox slowed the Arwing just as they were coming onto the wall of the building. The white and blue reflection of both their fighters came through on the glass surface of the windows along the mid-floors.

"You ready, birdbrain?" he spoke as he put the fighter into a hover.

_"__Lead the way, pussycat."_

Tilting his wings to the side, the Arwing began to hover around the right side corner of the tower. Soon, he was looking down the side of the following wall being scaled by a squad of more of these spider-like battle tanks. They were constructed like giant bulky crimson-colored beetles the size of one of the classrooms inside the academy with six clawed legs on each side. Each brandished long turrets mounted on the front and back of their crude designs. The moment the closest tank pointed its guns at Fox, he opened fire with his own.

The nose gun of the fighter blasted directly into the metal carapace of the first tank and swatted it off the wall like a bug being flicked by the end of a fingernail, the pincers upon each of its legs pulling out small chunks of the metal and stone along the wall. Continuing his hover down the side, Falco's fighter soon emerged and immediately opened up onto the next bundle of mountain climbers. Both of their bursts broke the surface around the legs of the tanks and caused them to clumsily slip and tumble to the far away floor below within massive showers of glass.

Fox's eyes were darting up and down, targeting each tank that crossed over his glass as if this were some kind of videogame. His shots hit their marks perfectly with the platoon of tanks dropping like electrocuted flies. Down below, Peppy and Slippy were mimicking them and tearing apart the stragglers. But while glancing down his glass to the tower below, he noticed both the hare and the toad suddenly jerk into motion, escaping the scene after frying the last of the climbers.

_"__Heads up, you two! Incoming fighters!" _Peppy warned.

_"__Fox, watch out behind you!"_

Falco's fighter rolled to the side all of the sudden and while maintaining his hover, he began opening fire on an incoming trio of Venom interceptors. Like a floating beachhead, Falco's barrage lit up the air around the enemy ships screaming into the scene and suddenly caused one of them to panic and dart to the side, slamming into his wingman which detonated a sharp, shower of metal and fire which tore up and caused the third to crash into the neighboring tower and spew a deathly spray of glass and flames.

"Thanks, Falco," Fox spoke while bringing his fighter out of hover. "Good eyes."

_"__I just can't stop saving you sorry tail,"_ the birdbrain answered, cockily.

_"__Don't get too spread out,"_ Peppy added, loudly. _"Keep in motion. Don't let them get a lock on you."_

Flying around to the opposite side of the tower, Fox looked down and checked the radar. Nothing appeared to be left, as far as technology could tell. But something didn't feel right. He'd seen too many action movies which resembled the situation almost too well.

_Nothing's ever easy._

_"__I got nothing left on radar," _said Falco after sweeping around the building a second time. _"Looks like we toasted them."_

_ "__Wait a minute," _Slippy interjected. _"You guys hear that?"_

_ "__Hear what?"_

_ "__That humming sound." _When nobody answered, Slippy coughed up a laugh. _"Are you guys serious? I've got the smallest ears in the animal kingdom and I'm only one who can hear it?"_

_"__You're hearing things."_

"Hold on." Fox continued to listen through the audio waves leaking in from the outside. "I hear it, too."

_ "__Something's coming up on radar," _Peppy spoke in. _"Something… big."_

_ "__What are you guys talking about?" _Falco argued. _"Slippy's got the worst hearing and I got the best eyes, and I don't see… Hooolyyyy…"_

Something pounded through the space just behind where Fox flew. Turning his head quickly to look out his rear, he suddenly saw a massive dust cloud with a shower of glass and stone dropping down from where one of the academy's neighboring towers should've been… and within the cloud he could see a lucidly hostile red glow begin to pierce the dust and smoke.

_ "__It's a Silverback! Get clear!"_

Peppy's warning instantly pushed Fox out of his temporary daze and forced his hand back onto the throttle, accelerating out of range of the rising beast. As soon as he was clear, he managed to look back and meet the sight of a red-plated titan roll out from a giant gap between the demolished towers. Its titanic form rolled through the showers of rubble upon twin giant tank treads, all the while its torso stood over half a kilometer high. The red glow that had caused Fox to scurry from the scene was coming from what was obviously the "head" of this giant mechanical gorilla. Instead of fists, its massive arms brandished blade like talons shaped into pincers.

_"__It's headed for the academy!"_

_ "__Yeah, no duh."_

"Peppy, how do we kill this thing?"

_"__I'm a soldier, Fox, not a tech wizard."_

Fox felt his tense jaw suddenly loosen to the point it could've easily dropped in awe. "You've gotta be—Slippy, can you do anything about it?"

There was an unnerving pause in the frequency which caused Fox to break focus from the "Silverback" death machine down to Slippy's petrified face in his video screen.

_"__SLIPPY!"_

_"__What-what! What do you want?"_

"Analyze its systems. Do _something, _just find out how to kill it!"

_"__Explain to me why _we_ have to kill the giant doomsday robot?"_ Falco complained, _"Where the hell is _our _army?"_

"Quit stalling! Slippy, get clear and see what you can do. Everyone else, on me. Buy him some time."

_"__Ugh, this is gonna suck…"_

Fox turned around to begin a charge into the mechanical titan. Falco and Peppy arrived to his flanks just as his eyes suddenly acknowledged the sheer scale of this godlike weapon of war. It twisted its torso slowly and began to acknowledge them "face-to-face", and from between its red eye, a massive beam was cast out.

_"__Look out!"_

The three of them broke away and just barely avoided being vaporized. The beam landed into the city far off causing a distant explosion to erupt – Fox could only imagine whose entire neighborhood was vaporized from its sheer force.

Turning back on course, he began firing directly into the head of the beast, his shots causing small waves of fire to envelop the eye, but failed to do anything but stain its blood red paintjob.

"That armor's too thick for standard lasers," Fox spoke the obvious. "Use your missiles and bombs. Don't let it get to the academy!"

_"__Go for the armor around the treads,"_ Peppy added his tactical appraisal. _"We'll blow past the primary buffers over the shock tendons and take out his starboard motor capacitor."_

_"__What the hell does that mean?"_ Falco asked, densely.

_"__Just stop the damn thing from moving!"_

They began swarming around the Silverback like killer bees, but the robot appeared to ignore them. Flying down along its broad shoulders, Fox turned sharply to dive for the ground below, locking in on its "tank half" and pressing the trigger to launch a missile. The blast slammed into it and sprung lose several plates of its armor, but on a major scale, the damage may as well been a scab.

_"__Launching Noble Bomb," _Peppy spoke up. _"Mind your eyes."_

Fox squinted his eyes and in no time there was a blinding flash that lit up the city block all around and temporarily turned the Arwing's interior red. There was a sudden mechanical _hum_ that buzzed through the air, the same Slippy had tried to describe before.

_ "__That got his attention," _said Peppy once the aftershock of the bomb passed. _"Watch your tails. He's coming around."_

The robot had suddenly creaked to a screeching halt while its torso slowly turned to the side. Finally, its bulking arms moved. It had begun to reach out to its left flank towards another tower. Its pincers appeared to stab into the building for no reason, until something immense snapped from its frame. Past a small cyclone of fire, the robot turned back and within its grip there appeared to be some sort of massive support beam. To Fox's bewilderment, it had begun to spin its clawed hand around in endless circles while the beam in its grip gradually spun around and around and around… and around like an ancient helicopter blade.

_ "__You have got to be kidding me!"_ Falco yelled once the giant had begun to spin the beam directly in front of it, its jagged edges creating deep, jagged cuts into the nearby towers, each beginning to bleed dust and glass.

_"__This thing's a goddamn circus freak," _Peppy scorned while maneuvering his fighter away from the shrapnel slicing across the air from the spinning beam.

_"__Hey, guys, I think I got something. It's pretty obvious come to think of it…"_

"Slippy, we need you over here, now!"

The robot had begun to move again, but this time had begun to bring back its arm and bend its metal elbow in the way it was about to punch the living daylights out of a challenger of equal size. But seeing the pose instantly brought light to Fox's bewilderment.

"Oh, crap… Watch out!"

_"__Dive! Now!"_

Fox pressed down the handles and caused the fighter to dive sharp towards the ground, just as the robot was throwing the spinning beam forward past its spinning grip. But while dashing for the lower city, Fox barely managed to see Falco above suddenly accelerate forward… _into _the beam.

"Falco, don't try it!"

The bird didn't answer, but his face in the screen had begun to tense up and glare his sharp eyes ahead. The beam tore through the air like an out of control rotary blade. When it reached the bird's Arwing, his craft did a wide barrel roll around the short, temporary opening near its center… miraculously making it through without being clipped. But the moment he made it through the crude flying obstacle, the red eye on the Silverback had suddenly switched colors from red to a light blue. It fired something out, but it wasn't a laser beam, rather a wave of lightning which instantly consumed Falco's fighter.

_"__What in the—!" _The bird began thrashing inside the video screen. _"Something's wrong with G-Diffuse. I've lost control." _

The bird's fighter had begun to spew smoke through its engine and catapult to the right where the Silverback had recommenced its course for the academy.

_"__All power's down and I'm… losing… going down!"_

Fox watched on with glazed eyes as the raptor's voice began to crackle through growing static. "Falco, pull off the side and stay out of its path. We'll pick you up."

The call didn't work. The bird's picture in the screen had begun to fuzz out into a deathly blur, the smoke trail left behind by his fighter crossing directly into the pathway of the Silverback.

"Falco, get out of its path!"

_"__I can't…" _he could hear the bird yell. _"Can't… goin… help…"_

* * *

The fighter suddenly met the crusty, desecrated road of the lower city and dragged its belly for fifty feet before finally screeching to an unnerving halt.

Falco opened his eyes and gawked out the glass. The entire boulevard was deserted and mangled with fresh scars. Old buildings to the side were burning while others were mere piles of ash and brick. Hovercabs were lined up alongside the borders of the road, several of their rusty carcasses littering the torn up pavement down the long, smoke covered stretch.

_Wait a minute…_

_I never crash._

Looking down to his controls, the lights of the cockpit were just as lifeless as the boulevard beyond. Trying to switch through the buttons and switches to bring life back to the systems, nothing came through. Everything was dead.

_Guess I'm dead, too, eh?_

There was muffled _boom_ that made it past the cockpit's walls and he turned around to see past the partially cracked rear window above the dead engine. What he saw made his feathers begin to rise on his arms and scalp, his eyes opening wide in shock.

The Silverback was on the move, and as if Falco couldn't get any more popular, it was rolling directly at him to mash his crash site beneath its treads.

"Ah, hell. Guys? Got a bit of a problem here. _Guys?"_

The radio was down along with everything else. Cursing under his beak he began to reach for the controls to open the cockpit. Nothing, like everything else. Panicking, he began to pull up on the glass, trying to put those super-bird biceps to good use.

Nothing.

"Piece of _junk!"_

Looking behind, the giant robot was continuing its unnervingly destructive pace down the boulevard, smashing the entire lane under its left tread.

Bailing wasn't an option. Trying to calm his rising anxiety, he began reaching for the controls and attempted to restart the engine. There was a stutter but ultimately no luck in bringing it back from the dead. Reaching down to the side of his chair, he brought up the emergency power router and plugged it to the front of the cockpit, praying the emergency power hadn't fried up during the crash. Trying to ignite the engine again, still no luck. Something came to mind in the brief second he looked back and saw the robot now less than fifty feet away from turning him into a pancake. Reaching beneath his jumpsuit, he unsheathed one of his lucky hunting knives (the only one the chumps at Four Blades didn't manage to find hidden beneath his feathers) and stabbed it into the panel, beginning to pry it open, soon revealing a circulatory system of wires beneath.

_What am I doing?_

_This isn't the same as hotwiring a decade old hovercab, genius._

He hectically began fiddling with the wires, shifting through the colors to find only… blue.

_No red?_

_No green?_

_What kind of freaking ship is this?_

As if an invisible "good luck" bolt shot down from heaven and landed directly into the bundle of blue wires, power clicked to the mainframe and brought the lights of the cockpit back to their lively brightness.

_ "__Fa… Falc…"_

The radio was back and he could hear none other than the orange pussycat himself trying to whistle in through a mind-throbbing static.

_"__Falc… Falco!"_

"I could use some help here, Fox!" he yelled once a bang echoed from the rear and he could see the treads of the colossus continue to roll closer and closer.

_"__Cov… your…"_

"Say again and say it clearly, dammit!"

_"__Cover… ears!"_

There was a sudden red flash that shot overhead that he instantly recognized from recent history. On impulse, he covered his ears with his feathery palms, and without delay, a massive concussive force blew through the boulevard, followed by a deafening boom.

An Arwing's Noble Bomb exploded into the Silverback's heels and blew out a horrendous dust storm across his fighter and thrusted back several of the hovercab skeletons around the boulevard ahead.

There was a sudden shock that flew across his skin beneath his feathers and caused him to shriek. But like magic, the full power of the Arwing returned and the G-Diffuse popped to life and caused the fighter to suddenly turn as weightless as a feather.

"That's the way!" he yelled out in relief.

_"__Falco, look out!"_

He instantly turned around upon hearing the yell mix in with massive mechanical hum of the Silverback. The sunlight directly above was blocked out by one of the house-sized pincers, opened up and falling down to grab him.

Before he could raise his hands and shriek like a baby chick, another blast slammed into the giant pincers and suddenly caused one of its heavy fingers to fall down and meet him. The giant blade stabbed into the pavement just feet away from his cockpit and he gawked at it with wide, petrified eyes. Back up above, another Arwing flew in and suddenly stopped in a hover directly in front of the Silverback's hunched down head and didn't wait to begin unleashing a firestorm of green directly in front of the robot's eyes. The robot lifted up its pincers away from Falco and began throwing it around in a wide arch to slap away its second foe.

The second Arwing—he could easily tell it was Fox thanks to these circus spins he was performing through like a clown—easily dodged the swing and the Silverback's arm went through the tower beside it, easily crashing the mid-section and causing it to immediately crumble and begin a massive collapse of foundations.

Rubble began raining overhead and Falco, without any more dazing, brought the engine to full and rose the scraped up Arwing off the street. Fox's fighter had flown around the robot's backside to avoid another slow, massive wail. Falco immediately gave a boost to his throttle and pushed the fighter into an instant dash, just as Fox had circled around and began flying away from the crashing skyscraper. The blast boomed chaotically through Falco's ears as shrapnel and rubble cascaded over the boulevard and sent up an enormous tidal wave of dust. With Fox flying at his wing, they both dashed down the boulevard avoiding the fresh ground-zero of the demolished building, just escaping a desperate snap of the robot's giant pincers reaching for their tails.

Their speed had tripled in just a few seconds and the lower city boulevard was passing through Falco's sight at light speed. He bit his beak painfully hard as he tried desperately to pull up the fighter's nose. Soon, both he and Fox had passed just over the edge of the busted old building marking the end of the boulevard… barely.

_"__We're clear, Pep!"_ Fox's voice yelled through the frequency. _"Take it down!"_

_ "__Open fire, Slippy," _the hare spoke and was immediately followed by the sounds and flashes of a brutal volley of vibrant blue lasers which had replaced the standard green. Both of their fighters continued flying a direct path into the Silverback while their shots were focused around the abdominal, right between the treads and the torso. In seconds, there was an explosion that rung out and caused the Silverback to joggle violently, and suddenly, with flames and large plates of armor flying off of its midsection, it began to fall forward. The torso eventually broke free and fell like a giant statue, falling face first onto the boulevard, shockwaves of dust and debris flying out from its body once it finally met solid ground.

_"__Yipee, baby!"_ screamed Slippy after the titan's epic fall. _"Sapphirian alloy! Now that's firepower!"_

Falco released a pocket of air locked in his lungs and slumped into his seat. Turning his head, he saw Fox's face past his own Arwing looking to him. The orange pussycat lifted up two fingers and gave a brief lazy salute to his direction. Falco smirked and shook his head in pity before returning the gesture.

_"__Commander Rosenburg, this is Star Fox," _Fox began speaking into the radio. _"Area's clear for evac. Send in the shuttles. Over."_

Falco reached down and knocked the glass of the fox's video screen with his knuckles, causing the image to flicker. He looked down and acknowledged Falco cocking his head to the side while raising his brow.

_ "__And _thanks_ for letting us know about the giant killer robot,"_ Fox added, bleakly. _"My crew appreciates your openness."_

_"__Solid copy, McCloud," _the commander answered back. _"Sorry for the lack of intel. I'll go ahead and put in that bonus I mentioned before. Good work out there."_

Falco felt his brow sink low over his upset eyes as he slowly shook his head from side to side.

"Butt-sniffers," he murmured, quiet enough it didn't transmit through the radio.

* * *

_"__Star Fox, this is TS One-twelve. We're beginning our final approach to Docking Platform Thirteen. Keep the path clear. Over."_

"Roger, One-twelve," Fox answered. "You're clear for approach. We'll watch your back."

The evacuation was already underway. A dozen different transporters had arrived and begun docking all across the landing pads poking out from the half-burnt tower. A heavy cloud of smoke had begun to fill the entire western block where the stone-dead Silverback robot had begun to burn from a massive fuel leak. The sky had begun to darken as more and more smoke and ash fluttered up to fill the clouds and taint the once perfect air.

"Dobbs, how's everything looking in there?" Fox spoke aloud while watching a couple transporters take flight and ascend up into the atmosphere.

_"__Why do you keep calling me that?"_ his old school nemesis responded._ "Have we met?"_

Fox spared a moment to smirk, but quickly felt it disappear once a distant boom echoed past the glass shield, signifying another big explosion – and maybe several dozens, maybe a hundred deaths. "Are you safe? How many are with you?"

_"__I don't know, man. Thirty, forty… maybe fifty? We're fine, now, but I can hear gunshots echoing from down in the stairwell." _There was a pause in the Doberman's voice and there was some background chatter going on between whoever was accompanying him. _"We're almost to the pad on level two hundred and twelve, but you guys better be ready for us. I've got a destiny outside this stupid school."_

"Alright, head to Professor Harksak's room once you get to the main hallway and hide in there. It's the only room with no windows so you'll be safe until the transporter lands."

_"__Yeah, good id—Wait a minute, how do you know that?"_

"Trust me, Dobbs. Just—"

Without warning, he was interrupted with a sudden blast that banged out from the corner of the building. Looking out towards the landing pad which had suddenly been enveloped in a ball of fire, he could see small tracers belonging to combat rifles fire into a flame-consumed transporter which eventually slipped over the edge when the landing pad crumbled and broke into pieces.

"What the hell just happened?"

_"__This is Charlie One-six!" _The leader of the soldiers inside the tower suddenly began to yell into the frequency past heavy breathing._ "We've got enemy shock troops pushing up to the landing pads. Get the refugees in the air. McCloud! Get those people out of here! We'll hol… Contact! On the stairway! Open—"_

"Charlie One…" He immediately stopped himself when the reality of the static spoke for itself. "One-twelve, we're running out of time. Are you almost here?"

_"__We're three minutes out and going as fast as we can," _the transport pilot answered. _"We're nearly at Bingo-fuel, so make sure those civilians are on deck. This is gonna be a quick pickup."_

"They need more…" But again, his last word ("time") ran dry while thoughts began zooming in and out of his head like a microscopic bugs designed to torture his self-control. "Dobbs, do you copy?"

As if a hidden devil was turning his good luck upside down, there wasn't any answer in the radio.

"Goddammit, Dobbs! Push and hold the button on the side of the radio, you idiot!" He stomped his foot into the floor of his fighter when nobody answered. "Peppy, I'm gonna go get those people."

_"__Fox, just wait for the—"_

Another _bang_ broke through the audio and interrupted Peppy this time. A blast of fire blew out the side of the tower several stories below the last untouched landing pad, the one where Dobbs and fifty other souls were supposed to be awaiting a rescue.

"I'm going," he spoke sharply in the radio and glared down to Peppy's picture in the video.

The hare's face appeared to slack in tension, but eventually, his chin gave an obedient nod. _"Aye-aye, skip."_

* * *

He approached the giant doors into the academy and suddenly felt his feet drag to a halt. He remembered walking in and out of these doors during the weekends where he and his buddies would depart on hovercabs to hang out at the local mall until the clock struck curfew. The crystal making up the glass was shattered while some of it barely hung from the golden frames. Burn marks were scattered across the surface, some still melting away the upper layer of the metal while it hissed under extreme heat. His lips cringed as he reached out his hand and pushed the door open.

Stepping inside would've made him wonder if a small tornado passed through the hall—that is, if it wasn't for the bombs and gunfire echoing through the charred walls from the outside. He looked around, and suddenly spotted a growing mob arise from several rooms that were previously barricaded with the furniture and decorations that had been lining the hallway. The chandelier that once hung from the ceiling was on the floor at the center, resting atop a big puddle of broken glass.

There were yells arising from the hall as people began to arise from their hiding places. To Fox's bewilderment, they weren't just students and school faculty. Some of them appeared like local office workers and cab drivers. The school itself must've been a rendezvous for refugees. But more likely, whoever still occupied it consisted mostly of the people who lived closest to the tower.

Seeing the building in such a state only made Fox wonder about the lower city where the mutts and immigrants resided around the factory districts. What was still left down there? If the upper city got hit this hard, how hard did the lower city get hit?

_"__C'mon, hurry it up!"_ a familiar voice spoke through the growing cluster at the center of the hall. _"Help should be here any…"_

The front lines of the crowd slowed to a halt several dozen steps away from where Fox stood at the open doorway. There were hundreds of them, mostly appearing unharmed with the exceptions of several with bandages nursing head wounds and sprained joints. Among the different assortment of clothing, there were mostly blue tunics with the scholarly red academy sashes tied at the wastes. Most of the faces amongst the mob were young, all hounds. Some he even recognized.

"Fox?"

He looked over to the center of the front line and saw the all-too familiar jarhead expression of Dobbs, the short black fur making up his face looking limp around his snout, making him look even dumber than he usually looked.

_"__Who is that?"_

_"__Is that Fox?"_

_"__Fox? He's here?"_

_"__He's alive?"_

Dozens of voices came through in half-whispers past soft lips. Even the non-academy refugees appeared dumbfounded, probably from seeing the face of their liberator to belong to a single teenager. A fox, of all things unusual.

Several students squeezed past the lines of stupid faces and forced their way to the front. A Scotty he recognized to be Stewart Halswart nearly fell back when he recognized his face. Another trio, two Labradors and a skinny Jack Russell—Tom Henrich, the Russel's name—all of whom he remembered were in his fourth period Business-Ed class, arose to witness his presence as if he were a specter arriving back from the mists of Hades.

Among the more eager eyes, one face arrived to make Fox's blood grow even thinner. The gorgeous white and fawn fur that coasted around her vibrant eyes and thin snout caused him to finally blink like an idiot.

"Fox," Rhyleen spoke in her sweet voice, sounding almost breathless. "Is that you?"

"Hey, guys," he spoke lightly after swallowing a growing mound of saliva building atop the back of his tongue.

There was a sudden draft that _woosh_ed from the open doorway behind him and brushed by his flight coat and caused some of the refugees to squint their eyes to guard from the flying dust. Rhyleen's beautiful fur flew with the air giving an almost perfect display for a model photo shot in _Beach-tail Illustrated._ Fox would've blushed at the sight if this had been any other moment in history.

_"__Fox, the last shuttle's just arrived. Get those refugees out onto the landing pad."_

His eyes were permanently stuck on Rhyleen's while under their passive curse, the imaginary melody of jazz floating along the axis of his skull. Seeing them sparkle in the light piercing past the crystal doorway only made him want to…

_"__FOX!"_

He flinched and awoke back into reality, turning his eyes around to see the landing pad outside begin to spew dust from a growing cyclone. He turned back around to see the hundreds of faces, friends and strangers, gawking at him, clueless.

_"__Fox, get them onto the landing pad, now!"_ Peppy yelled again.

He raised his once statuesque hand and pressed his finger into his ear mike. "Right, we're coming out now." He then began to wave quickly for the crowd before him. "Everybody outside on the pad. C'mon!"

The words seemed to reach out with an invisible hand and pull the crowd forward into an instant rush. They began jogging forward towards the doors, past Fox who held the half-demolished frame open to give way.

_"__Commander McCloud, this is TS One-twelve," _the transport pilot spoke into the frequency. _"We're ten seconds to touchdown. Keep the pad clear. Over."_

"Copy that, you're clear to land," he answered past the growing _thrum _of the transporter beginning to hover twenty feet off the landing pad. He began to wave the flow of people forward. "Stay low! Don't get in the way of the transporter!"

"Fox!"

"Dobbs," he acknowledged the Doberman standing still amongst the flow, his jaw dropped as he tried to regain his mental bearings. "Help the wounded get aboard. Go!"

The Doberman broke past his invisible casing and nodded his head, rigorously, and quickly jogged for the front of the mob of ducking refugees, some trembling in their feet while others held tight around their closest friends, as if fearing the transporter's wake would blow them off the pad.

Fox continued pushing the people past the door, urging them through, all until he suddenly froze and turned to see Rhyleen stop in front of him, just a dozen more people trailing behind her. Her almost mindless eyes spoke of a mix of fear and confusion.

"Rhyleen, you need to—"

_"__Wait!"_ a voice suddenly echoed from behind the doors, arising from the hallway. _"Please! Wait for me!"_

He turned to see a stray person burst past a door and into the rubble covered hallway on unbalanced legs. The man's droopy face waggled with each desperate step and his spectacles resting over his nose slipped and fell to the floor, causing him to stop and bend over to reclaim them.

"Professor Harksak!" he yelled the man's name, realizing the straggler to be his old Business-Ed professor. "Get out of there! There's no time!"

The man seemed to ignore his words in favor of claiming his glasses. The moment he arose while pushing the lenses back onto his snout with his shaking paws, he tried to restart his run for the door.

But out of nowhere, a string of bangs erupted from the hallway behind the left hand corner to the main elevators. The wall at the professor's right suddenly erupted packets of smoke and tiny debris upon catching a spray of laser fire. The professor's body joggled and fell to the side after several blasts pierced his side and brought his sagging form down to the floor.

Screams of fright erupted from outside where the refugees heard the sudden gunfire. Two hazy forms arose from around the corner ahead and into Fox's sight. The crimson armored plates and helmets they wore over their grey jumpsuits, accompanied by the combat rifles in their hands, yelled "enemy" straight into Fox's ears.

"Get back!" he yelled and pulled Rhyleen's petrified body behind him, all the while reaching down to his belt and ripping his pistol out from the holster.

He open fired the moment he raised his gun. Several blasts tore past the two Venomian soldiers causing them to hectically open fire back. Fox gritted his teeth as their own attacks erupted spark storms close by his head. He began rapidly squeezing the trigger, almost to the point where he may as well have been shooting with his eyes closed. The relentless volley he sent out flooded the hallway with smoke, and when he felt the pistol click once it chamber had overheated, he finally stopped and felt his vision come to.

_"__Shots fired! Shots fired! Get those civilians boarded! Now!"_

The transported had just touched down and two guard hounds leapt out to begin hurrying everybody aboard. When the smoke fell enough for him to glimpse into the hall, Fox saw one of the enemy soldiers lying face first on the marble floor while the other just finished dropping to his knees and gradually fell down hard just beside his dead comrade.

_Holy…_

He released a packet of air that had been imprisoned at the bottom of his lungs. He eventually blinked and forced himself to run forward back into the hallway. Professor Harksak's body was laying on the ground just a couple dozen paces away.

As if his own weight had caused an unbalance in the entire building, the ceiling had suddenly snapped and he looked up just in time to acknowledge a cave in. He raised his hands to shield his eyes from the shrapnel and soon opened them to find a pile of burning rubble from the floor above blocking the way further in.

_Sorry, professor._

_Thanks for the education._

Breaking from his stupor, he turned around and marched back to the outside. Rhyleen was still standing at the doorway, mostly in shock, but not enough that she managed to exchange his stare with one of her own.

"Rhyleen, get to the transporter," he spoke past his chapped lips. His whiskers occasionally twitched from the wearing adrenaline, making his eyes blink more frequently.

He pulled the scared Collie up to where the academy survivors were almost completely aboard the large transporter. Up above, he spotted one of the Arwings making a pass. A glimpse to the inside made him suspect it was Peppy. Turning his head to the side, his own fighter rested easy upon its landing gears, a loyal steed in wait for its master's return.

He gave one last glimpse to the group loading onto the transporter before turning to walk away. He felt relieved enough to get back into the air.

"Fox!" Rhyleen's voice suddenly spoke through the transporter's thrumming engines, past her shock. "Where are you going?"

He turned back and as if this particular moment was identical to every other blushing second he experienced in Rhyleen's presence during school, he couldn't help but stare and fascinate over the gorgeous flow of her fur on top the serene gleam in her emerald eyes.

"I got a job to do," he eventually forced himself to speak. "Sorry."

Off to the side, he spotted Dobbs supporting a wounded couple of Westies aboard the transporter, one of the terriers holding a cloth against a bloody mark atop her snowy white shoulder.

"Dobbs!" he called to him, forcing him to turn his head and recognize him. "Keep them safe, alright?"

The stocky Doberman was breathing hard as his own adrenaline was fading away, but he eventually glanced over to where the parked Arwing sat in wait, then back to respond with another rigorous nod. "You got it, Fox."

Looking one last time to Rhyleen, as if it was the last time, he turned around to get back to the fighter. But it was the second he turned away, he felt Rhyleen's paw reach out and grab his.

"Rhyleen, I can't—"

But his voice was instantly muffled when she pulled him back and suddenly, he felt the beautiful Collie's snout connect to his. For a moment which could have been confused with a life time, he felt his entire body freeze up in shock then gradually melt away into a warm abyss.

She soon allowed him free, continuing to stare at him. "Kiss for good luck, right?"

He was a breathless for a moment, until he blinked and felt life return back to his tongue. "Right."

_"__We're about ready for castoff,"_ the transporter pilot spoke into the radio. _"Everybody aboard!"_

Fox allowed his feet to slowly step back, and soon, after another lifelong moment, he turned and began to jog back to the Arwing. Upon reaching the craft, he turned back and saw the ramp of the transporter rise and block off sight of the passengers.

_Everybody's safe._

_Time to go, lover boy._

_"__Contact! McCloud, watch your back!"_

He broke from his daze just in time to glance back to the door and recognize the arrival of more crimson armored soldiers, four instead of two. They pointed to the transporter as it rose off the landing pad, and then turned and instantly jumped at the sight of him.

_Really? I'm that scary?_

He pulled out his pistol in reflex and instantly shot the closest soldier. The blast tore into the trooper's chest and threw him backwards with a spray of sparks. Ducking behind his fighter's wing, he fired several more shots at the remaining three who scattered to the side for cover. Seeing his chance, he pulled himself up onto the wing and jumped feet first into the open cockpit. Laser blasts began to bounce off the reflective armor layering the wing, and without a second thought, he ignited the engines and brought the fighter's throttle to full bear.

The Arwing flew off the pad while leaving the enemy soldiers behind. Red streams passed by the cockpit but failed to do anything but make Fox laugh. He took a deep breath between his laugh and eventually calmed down, flying past the airborne transporter and back into the air above Calidame.

_"__We're clear and outta here, Star Fox,"_ the transport pilot confirmed. _"Thanks for the assist."_

_"__Fox, do you read?"_ Peppy spoke through the radio. _"You alright over there, skip?"_

He reached down and flipped the switch bringing the video feeds of his team back to life. He wiped his other hand over his forehead while trying to quell the giggles tickling his throat.

"Close call," he answered after wiping a stray tear from the fur along his eye socket.

_"__You'll get used to it,"_ Peppy spoke back, his whiskery lips grinning. _"Good work getting those people out."_

_ "__Yeah-yeah, good work,"_ Falco spoke up from his own video, not bothering to look down to the side at his camera. _"Good, but not amazing. Sure that kiss with Sugar Lips wasn't amazing, either."_

"Don't go turning purple on me, birdbrain."

_"__I don't 'blush', genius."_

_"__Ehem," _Slippy interrupted the frequency. _"We, like, still kind of have a job to do, guys?"_

_"__Since when did you start being the serious one, Chick-lick?"_

_ "__Why do you keep calling me that? What does that even mean?" _

_ "__He's right about the job,"_ Peppy responded. _"Pepper sent out a request for an audience up at the flagship."_

Fox felt instantly dumbfounded. "We're in the middle of a warzone and he wants to talk? Now?"

_"__Apparently it's something that can't wait. I'm locking in coordinates for the Essex. Let's head upstairs and see what the hound wants with the fox."_

* * *

They left the atmosphere of the raging war behind and came into the planet's orbit. After a speedy flight along its axis, they reached Corneria's night side where the remaining stations belonging to the Steel Collar sat within a cluttered space swarming with Cornerian starships.

Flying between too parked cruisers guarding the South Pole window, Fox's eyes stared long at the glowing scars decorating their metal hides, some appearing to be still spewing quick sparks and flames which quickly became extinguished in the vacuum of space.

_"__These guys got their tails handed to them,"_ said Falco as they flew in formation past the cruisers and towards the nearest Spike station. _"Surprised they're still even called a 'fleet'."_

Fox ignored the bird's lousy words, but in all honesty, he couldn't help but agree. The last of fleet consisted of perhaps a couple dozen ships, from what he could see from his cockpit. The thought that dozens more of their ships and thousands of their naval men were now nothing but space dust…

_So this is what war must feel like…_

_Welcome back to reality, Fox._

"Essex, this is Star Fox. Requesting clearance to dock."

_ "__Standby, Star Fox," _the ship operator responded. _"Clearance granted. Proceed to Fighter Bay Four. General's waiting for you on the bridge."_

The flagship in question was docked off to the side of the Spike station. This one appeared larger and fairly undamaged compared to its little sisters. Along its broad hull between a design of red lights, the white paint of its name, **CCV ESSEX****, **was printed proudly with a fresh battle scar slicing past the middle of it, making the **E** appear more like another **X**.

After a fairly easy landing within its fighter bay, Fox rose up out of his cockpit. Looking to his flanks, he saw Peppy and the others climbing out of their own.

They rendezvoused at the center of the bay and began making their way to the door into the rest of the ship. But as they walked on, Fox suddenly found himself staring at a surrounding spectacle which was both odd and haunting to take in.

Half of the entire bay had been transformed into a temporary hospital center layered with over a hundred different medical stretchers lying upon supply crates. He couldn't see one makeshift bed that was vacant. Soldiers and sailors alike were lying down with bandages and IV chords covering their ravished hides. Some laid still, others moaned and twisted around in pain. Out of the hundred patients, there were only four medics and one surgeon running about with a couple dozen sailor volunteers assisting in watching after the overwhelming amount of wounded.

The others by his side were taking in the same spectacle with a silent, grim interest, all except Peppy who moved close to Fox's side, as if making sure the horrors of war didn't affect the speed of his pace.

Fox couldn't help but glance down to the passing wounded hounds lying on their stretchers. There were too many faces for him to be able to pick out any that caught his interest. But there was one that nearly caused him to stop, a short-haired Fergie who had half his face wrapped in bloody bandages. His last remaining eye had been staring at him since the moment he landed, his blood stained snout not moving, and his nostrils not even breathing. Fox eventually forced his eyes back forward trying to stay focused on the road ahead, despite the image of Fergie's near-lifeless eye had already latched itself onto his memory like a poisonous leech.

A trio of sailors had been walking by with medical supplies piled into their hands. They suddenly stopped in unison once they looked up and managed to catch sight of Fox in particular. Their faces instantly went from focused to dumbfounded.

_"__Is that James Mc…"_ one attempted to say, but his voice was drowned out once the door to the exit screeched open and another team of sailors rushed in, carrying another stretcher with a hound moaning past a soaked face with his claws painfully grinding into the skin above a red bandaged stub that was all that remained of a dismembered leg.

They passed into the doors and made their way through the traffic of sailors and naval officers. Surprisingly—but perhaps not as surprising as it felt at first glance—everyone that had rose into their path stepped to the side allowing them leeway, all the while they stared at Fox walking down the tunnels and halls, most likely wondering whether or not James McCloud had somehow returned from the land of the dead.

The trek was long and tedious until they were met by four guardsmen who offered to escort them to the ship's bridge. Making their way down tunnels and eventually reaching an elevator, they rose up and soon found themselves entering into a more open, less cluttered domain.

The ship bridge had been refashioned with a staff of a dozen officers managing communication terminals and overseeing holographic maps depicting troop deployment routes and known enemy positions. The lights of the terminals caused the circular room to gleam with a blue luminescence that reminded Fox of the night sky over peace-time Calidame.

It was at the top of the helm at the center of this makeshift war room where Fox's eyes eventually stuck onto the back of one particular officer wearing a familiar dark maroon army uniform with stars brandishing each epilate tagged to his spotless shoulders. He held an officer's hat in his hands which were resting behind him at ease, the same steady posture Fox saw the old hound put off over a month ago back when he first arrived on the Steel Collar to discover his life had been changed forever.

The general eventually turned around to acknowledge his arrival, his old disciplined face sparing a droopy smile.

"General Pepper." Fox gave a nod in good faith.

The general gave a nod back. "Fox. Peppy. It's good to see you two again. For once I wish these meetings came under less hectic circumstances."

"It's alright, Cornelius," said Peppy, calmly. "Good to see your tail's still intact."

"Yes, well…" Pepper glanced to both of his flanks, taking in the visual of his personnel busily coordinating the ongoing battle. "If cutting the damned thing off could offer a quick and collateral free solution to ending this nightmare, I would've happily obliged. However, as you've probably already noticed… this is not the most fortunate moment in our history."

The general descended from the helm and approached Fox first with an open hand. Fox shook it in return and allowed him to exchange the same with Peppy.

"General," Fox stepped up and waved his hand to his two remaining teammates. "This is Slippy Toad and Falco Lambardi."

"Slippy." Pepper went on to shaking their remaining hands. "Falco. Thank you all for what you did back at Calidame Central. You saved a lot of lives as well as an entire generation of Corneria's brightest. I and the rest of Corneria are in your debt."

"Your message came through a little vague, general." Peppy stepped in and nudged his head towards the nearby map table depicting a three dimensional recreation of Calidame. "How's the situation faring?"

"I take comfort in the thought it could be worse," said Pepper as he led the group over towards the table. "But not much comfort."

Fox watched as the general tapped his finger upon the controls of the desk and caused the city grid to transform into a sphere shaped representation of the entire planet.

"Not long before you first arrived," Pepper began, "the bulk of the enemy forces re-routed their attention towards Calidame. Current reports coming in suggest they've temporarily halted further advances and are fortifying their current positions. Basilass City and Key Sumnest both report that local incursions have dwindled significantly and friendly forces are pushing to eliminate the remaining pockets of enemy resistance."

"I heard Janneral got hit pretty hard," Fox mentioned.

"As far as we know, the siege forces at Janneral have subsided substantially in strength. Strange as it is, the purge that was launched by the Venom dreadnaught, _Catalyst,_ desecrated more of their own forces than ours. What's left of the Seventh Brigade has taken to the subway systems, awaiting reinforcements for our upcoming counterattack."

"You're fleet looks like they've seen better days," said Fox, freely. "If you don't mind me saying, sir, I'm not feeling fond of the idea of my team vanguarding a counter-offensive to take back the entire planet."

"You won't have to, it turns out." Pepper tapped again at the controls of the holographic map. "Recent reconnaissance reports coming out from Janneral suggest the existence of a Venomian long-wave communications code being transmitted somewhere off the city coastline. From what we've deciphered, it appears to be coordinating the entire invasion force using our satellite grid, and what is most peculiar is that it's being relayed through an actual Cornerian frequency."

"They're using your own radio channels to transmit orders?" Falco suddenly spoke up from the rear, putting off an unusual amount of interest.

"You'd think it'd be easy to spot out," Slippy added, folding his skinny arms. "Being a friendly frequency, I mean. Right?"

"You'd think it'd be so easy, yes," the general answered. "But this evidence originally came to our noses by a local fisherman who reported hearing strange noises over one of his favorite music stations. A pirate radio station, of all things so simply dumb."

"Creating a frequency of their own would've been a safer choice," Peppy elaborated his thoughts aloud. "This isn't like Venom."

"No, it isn't." Peppy turned his back to the map to face them. "That's because this isn't an invasion by textbook standards. It's a message."

"For what?" Fox asked, suddenly feeling perplexed.

Pepper turned to look at Fox in particular. Despite his face was naturally droopy, something about it made it appear even more "droopy".

"You're saying all of this is my fault?" said Fox when the thought struck his heart with a venom-coated ice pick. "For what? Being alive?"

"Figuratively speaking, yes." Pepper glanced to his sides, as if to check the amount of space between him and his personnel before dropping his tone. "Truthfully speaking, the bulk of the fault is with me. I was deceived into believing a lie set in motion by none other than Andross himself. A lie which… ended with a travesty."

"This isn't war." Fox glanced to the holographic planet over the map. "This is an obsession."

"An obsession to suck the very life out of every free citizen living on this planet."

"And my father was the first big step."

"Only a part of it. But in hindsight, Andross failed to complete that step. Do you know why?"

Fox felt his lips slowly grow stern.

"The Arwings are here," Pepper spoke the answer. _"You_ are here. Not in a grave on the other side of the system. _Here, _on Corneria, flying alongside the soldiers who are fighting for their lives down there. Some of them have seen your face, seen the symbol on your ship. The _enemy_ knows you're here. They believe everything they've been told about the death of James McCloud is a lie. They see your father when they see the Valkyrie Fox, not you."

The general suddenly took a step closer to meet him eye to eye.

"Make them remember _you,"_ the general spoke without blinking. "This isn't your father coming back from the dead. This is the next generation. This is you. _This_ is your time."

Fox soon allowed himself blink and look away from the general. After a moment of feeling memories and words wind around the rapids of his restless conscious, he soon found himself looking to Peppy standing at his left.

The hare acknowledged him back with his invulnerably calm eyes and gave a nod of approval.

Fox eventually turned back to face the waiting general, feeling his face turn rock solid and prepared. "What do you need us to do?"


	22. Chapter 21

**21 -**

As if Calidame hadn't been enough to quench the thirst of chaos, Janneral city was transformed to the next level of devastation.

A regular postcard-perfect interpretation of hell that Fox had only seen once before on the paper surface of a comic book.

"Feast your eyes, gents," Fox suddenly began speaking out while they sailed over a red haze boiling up from below where the city was… gone. _"Corneria… _Fourth planet of the Lylat System. The jewel of the void. The conduit of freedom. The main goddamn reason there's still a Lylat System at all."

_"__Hey, c'mon, boss. This ain't game-over." _Slippy was attempting to focus on the surprisingly clear flight ahead rather than the burning remains of the once second biggest city on the planet. _"One city lost. Doesn't mean the war's lost, too, right?"_

"What's one city, Slippy?" Fox asked while continuing to fuel his sight with the unbelievable magnitude of destruction. "A thousand towers, one thousand times the people living in them. All from an invasion that isn't really an 'invasion', but some twisted, maniacal—"

_"__Fox, you need to stay focused," _Peppy intervened. _"Fly straight, don't look back. Take the example of your father's path."_

"I forge my own path," he answered while raising the throttle to begin making a break for the outer border of the city. "Starting now."

* * *

The air had begun to clear as they finished their pass over Janneral. They were headed for the ocean, where this mystery "pirate signal" had just recently began transmitting orders again.

_"__Triangulating…" _Slippy spoke aloud. _"Got it. Range to target zone fifty klics. Hopefully we've got the element of surprise still on our side."_

_"__Don't get your hopes up," _Peppy answered. _"You heard the general. An entire squadron of twenty fighters went down right after they passed into the zone. Just pray there isn't an EMP field waiting for us."_

_"__So… do we at least have half an idea of what we're going up against?"_

_ "__Something big,"_ Peppy answered, simply._ "Big enough to serve as an airborne command center."_

_ "__You mean like a battleship?"_

_ "__Maybe bigger."_

_"__As if the doomsday robot wasn't big enough," _Falco spoke through his undying lack of patience. _"And in case it slipped the general's brilliant mind, the real fight's _behind_ us."_

_"__Alright, enough with the chatter,"_ Peppy interjected. _"Fox, keep a close eye on that radar. This thing's definitely sporting some kind of stealth field."_

The ground below had begun to slowly fade from sight as they passed through a low lying cloud. Fox looked to his flanks and could barely pick out the rest of the team.

But that's when something peculiar passed by his ears and caused his nose to twitch. He looked back ahead and began witnessing a hiss as the cloud blew by like a large packet of tiny sand crystals brushing across his wings.

_"__ETA, ten seconds."_

_"__Radar's on the fritz," _Falco spoke from the right. _"I can't see a damn thing through this fog."_

"I don't think it's fog." Fox continued to watch the microscopic specs fly past the glass, so small and harmless in appearance, but something didn't feel right. This wasn't just some ordinary cloud. Closely, he could notice several of the specks possessing wings, sparkling like miniature cobalt crystals. For a moment, this "cloud" almost reminded him of a swarm of bugs.

_"__Something's wrong,"_ Slippy spoke up first. _"I'm getting some major turbulence here."_

_"__What the hell?"_ Falco's picture in the screen suddenly joggled from a surprise force. _"Something's on my wing!"_

Fox turned his head sharply to where Falco's fighter had begun to bank unsteadily from side to side. There was something on his wing causing him to lose control. For a moment, Fox could've sworn it was a person… or a ghost.

_"__Dammit!"_ Falco could be seen panicking inside his cockpit.

_"__What is that thing?"_ yelled Slippy, almost in cue of another ghostly form appearing from out of nowhere in an attack directed at Fox.

Time felt like it was slowing down when the creature in front of him began to take form. Fox watched with fright as each millisecond allowed the creature's physique to slowly form together from the millions of different bugs flying about. It grew as large as a gorilla with broad, thick limbs extended from its torso like a sky diver. The moment Fox managed to pick out the darkness covering where its face should've been, time returned and he felt a major force slam into his cockpit.

_"__Holy—They're everywhere!"_ Slippy's voice broke past the frequency.

_"__Watch your sides and keep your spacing,"_ Peppy yelled. _"Fling them off!"_

_ "__HOW?"_

_ "__Do a barrel roll!"_

Fox flinched when he saw his own attacker pull itself up to the cockpit, using its massive hands to grip the hull. Without thinking, he raised his nose and began to sharply bank from side to side, turning his wings rapidly as if he were a dog drying himself off from a spring bath. The hazy bug-brute was shaken off balance but managed to hold on.

_"__They're in my cockpit!"_ Slippy cried in panic.

"They're what?"

But before he knew it, the explanation came to him once the creature banged its fist into his glass and suddenly covered his entire glass with a sheet of these kamikaze bugs. Buzzing came to his ears and he felt several swarms beginning to fly through the fighter's ventilation from behind his head. They were everywhere, now crawling through the interior of the Arwing and buzzing around his face like bees. He tried to swat them away, but more kept coming. Without properly thinking (more reacting) he pulled the latch of his cockpit and brought the glass lowering down.

The wind whipped at his fur like crazy and barreled into his bare eyes so fast he could feel the moisture being swept from their surfaces like tears. He brought the accelerator down and managed to barely gain a glimpse of the cockpit. The bugs were instantly swept away, but the creature was now standing directly beside him, looking to him like a predator viewing exposed prey.

Reaching to his thigh, Fox ripped his pistol from its holster and took aim at the creature. He managed to fire several dead on shots into the creature's face, but each blast was as useless as firing into a sheet of sand. The creature bellowed something like a growl which vibrated his ears while it attempted to reach in its arm and grab him, but Fox quickly pulled on the controls and caused the fighter to joggle. The creature barely maintained its grip while its feet were swept away, along with several thousands of bits of its body fragments.

Things weren't looking good. As far as Fox knew, these things were invincible to physical damage. But then another sight suddenly opened up to his eyes… water. They had reached the coast. Something sparked his mind like a revelation… or common sense.

_Bees can't swim._

Taking a sharp dive towards the ocean's surface, he turned his right wing so that it was only inches from the waterline. The creature had suddenly brought a long, powerful arm into the cockpit and Fox could feel its fingers suddenly grip tightly around his neck, causing his body to convulse. The wind was suddenly replaced by the sound of waves – that same sound he could hear from the Arwing during a cruise, only louder. The tip of the wing had begun to slice through the salt water. A spray had begun to wet his face and get into his eyes, causing him to curse aloud in pain. But his voice never came. Rather the creature beside him had suddenly begun to bellow another terrible sound. Fox forced himself to open his eyes and look the creature dead in the face. The darkness forming its identity began to morph into vaguely emotional shapes, empty eye sockets that were wide in terror and a mouth opened to allow a shriek to escape its figurative lungs. The water spray continued to wipe over its body and gradually began to dissolve it away like a melting statue. Soon, the hand that had been chocking his neck wore away and blew out of the cockpit.

And then there was nothing. Fox quickly raised his wing from the water and leveled out upon closing the cockpit. When the chaotic wind had finally stopped blowing into his ears, the silence caused his body to sit frozen, shocked, as if he had just survived an encounter from a homicidal specter. For a moment, he wasn't entirely sure that even his heart was working properly. But as the cockpit systems began to return to nominal, he felt his breath return, and he slumped in his seat with the greatest feeling of relief he's ever experienced.

In what felt like a lightning strike, the turbulence suddenly returned in full force and he turned to see the creature's face reappear like a monster out of a grave. It furiously roared and brought back its titanic fist for a killing blow into the glass. But before Fox could react, the sound of an Arwing's laser fire blew through the air and past his right wing. The creature was instantly vaporized into a true cloud of dust, leaving nothing left.

_"__Firepower solves everything," _Falco's voice spoke from the frequency.

Fox saw the bird's nose arrive back to its original place at his right flank. From the cockpit, he exchanged direct looks with the ex-pirate, who appeared to be grinning.

"Where's Peppy and Slippy?" Fox immediately lashed out.

The bird spat some air past his beak and shook his head. _"Guess I'm not the only one who doesn't know how to say 'Thanks'."_

"I can take care of myself! You were supposed to be watching after the others."

_"__Hey, I just saved your life! That's a fact!"_

_ "__Knock it off, you dopes!"_ Slippy suddenly arrived to the left. "Sheesh,_ save it for whatever's up ahead."_

_"__And _what _exactly is up ahead?"_

"Maybe we could ask this guy," Fox spoke up as his eyes were locked onto the developing shape arising into the air past the thinning layers of mist.

The rest of the team instantly turned silent once a new player had stepped onto the playing board – something _big,_ as told by Peppy.

_"__What the…"_ Falco was gawking ahead like an idiot, just as something which must've been a big ship had risen to eye level and began causing the mist surrounding the area to fade away.

_"__Target confirmed," _Peppy spoke out. _"This must be the DJ managing those transmissions."_

"Essex, this is McCloud. We've located the primary target along the Janneral coastline. Uploading coordinates now. Please advise for orbital fire support on a large airborne vessel. Over."

As if the sound of static wasn't enough of an original factor of this long day, the _hiss_ had struck again.

"Essex, do you… Screw it. That thing is jamming communications."

_"__Meaning?" _Falco spoke up, sarcastically.

"You kidding me?_ Meaning_ exactly what it means, dumbass."

_"__You lost me at _'meaning'."

_"__Uh, guys?"_ Slippy intruded. _"The, uh… big flying UFO knows we're here, me thinks."_

_"__Ahhh…"_ A new and rather creepy sounding voice intruded into the frequency. _"Someone wants to play…"_

A new face arrived into the fourth video-screen. Fox instantly felt his face convulse from a spasm when he suddenly met eyes with a creature he's never seen before in the flesh: an alligator.

"And you are?" he asked as they approached past the last packet of fog.

The newcomer arrived from out of the mist like a dragon rising from a slumber beneath the sea. Its hull was crudely constructed like a massive power boat with two large outward tunnels curving out from its port and starboard broadsides. The shape of it resembled a giant **W** laying flat, a huge row of guns lined up along its front making it appear like a floating artillery platform.

_"__You wish to know the name of your destroyer?" _The gator opened up his large teeth-riddled jaw to bellow a sadistic laugh. _"Very well, I will tell you. I am—"_

_ "__Since when did monkeys start hiring swamp trash to coordinate invasions?" _Falco suddenly blurted out past a laugh of disbelief. _"Like these pea-brains weren't stupid enough back on Zoness."_

_ "__PEA-BRAIN? You dare defy _me,_ you inconsiderate bird?"_

_"__They weren't much better back on Lilya, either," _Slippy chimed in, completely disregarding the gator's voice. _"Something about small cerebral cortexes. Hence the small brains."_

_"__Why, you slimy little bubble of puss!" _the gator returned with a rising temper. _"Do you know who I—"_

"I thought that was a myth?" Fox interrupted while feeling his focus jump back and forth around the playing field.

_"__Nah, it's fact," _Slippy explained. _"Small skulls. Limited intelligence. Was a big war back on Lilya several centuries back. Kicked the gators off and sent them hightailing to Zoness."_

_"__Yeah," _Falco blurted again into the radio. _"You sent them straight to us and instead of frogs, now they're chomping down on bird meat instead, thanks to you slimeballs making them so aggressive."_

_"__It's not our fault! It's something to do with their brains. The medulla oblongata. Makes em abnormally aggressive." _

_"__Do not IGNORE ME!" _the gator blurted out just as his ship had suddenly become fully visible past the mist, its scale nearly equal to an entire old-fashioned groundside neighborhood on the Calidame outskirts. _"This ship has the power to turn you all into microscopic—"_

"Guys, _focus,"_ Fox cut in when he saw the gator's command ship begin to turn to face them. "Slippy, start looking into his systems and see if you can—"

_"__The medulla _what?" Falco, as if on cue, cut _him_ off.

_"__The ME-DULLA…"_ Slippy dramatically pronounced, "… _OB-LON-GATA. Controls aggression. Simple Science 101, dude."_

_ "__Science my tail feathers. You're making this up."_

_ "__Why would I make this up? Look in a book! It says right in the—"_

"Slippy! Shut up and analyze his systems!"

_"__That's IT!" _The gators face was fuming rage within the video-screen. _"Prepare for attack!"_

The hull of the ship hovering before them suddenly transformed and gave birth to several more rows of cannons sprouting out to take aim.

"He's firing!"

_"__Drop altitude,"_ Peppy hectically ordered. _"Dive!"_

They all pushed up on their throttles on instinct and brought their ships into instant dives towards the surface of the sea. Something fired from the command ship but it wasn't lasers or screaming projectiles. Fox turned around to look up into the sky where the command ship hovered. A dozen streams of light whizzed out in ridiculous spirals and suddenly changed their course to follow their tails.

_"__Incoming enemy missiles!"_ Slippy yelled in panic.

"Keep going! Draw them to the water!"

The four of them broke off from one another into separate paths, dashing straight down to where the heavy waves of the ocean whished along in lucid displays of blue. Fox felt his teeth begin to slowly bite down onto one another, his eyes growing wider and more alive while his fingers began to twitch at the controls. The surface of the ocean was heading in fast while the beeping alert light signaled several missiles were closing in on his tail.

Peppy, Slippy, and Falco were barely visible to his sides, not flinching away from their daring dives, either.

_ "__Wait for it…"_ Peppy spoke into the frequency.

Fox forced himself to keep his eyes forward and off his tail. It was within the final ten seconds before he slammed headfirst into an instant watery death that he finally spared a look behind. There weren't just a couple missiles – they were at least five chasing after him right on his tail and in perfect view.

_"__Pull up! Now!"_

Fox turned back just in time to see the waves churn perhaps only fifty feet away. Squeezing the handles, he pulled both up to bring the Arwing out of dive… and to be met with what felt like a thousand G-forces squishing his body and making him think he was about to sink and break through the bottom the fighter. After his stomach finished squealing from an ultimate excitement, he leveled out the fighter and instantly pulled up to meet the sight of the command ship above.

_ "__Insolent little mammals!" _the gator hissed back into the radio frequency. _"I'll have your heads on mantles, you rats!"_

"We've got to take out this guy right now," said Fox as he watched the underbelly of the command ship grow closer. "Peppy, Falco – form up on me."

_"__Right behind you," _Peppy responded.

_"__Try not to get me shot down this time," _Falco followed in his own fashion.

"Slippy, keep your distance and see what you can do."

Something new followed that caused Fox's stalwart expression to instantly sink. Silence, and blackness where Slippy's face should've been down towards the radio video feed. There wasn't an answer from Slippy, and his face was gone. Fox instantly imagined looking around and finding a smoking rubble pile floating atop the water below.

"Slippy, do you copy?" he sat up from his seat and began looking around, hectically. "Slippy!"

_"__Thought I crashed, didn't ya?"_

Fox felt himself momentarily slump back into his seat when the toad's face reappeared, his green forearm retracting after flipping his cockpit camera back on. His wide lips were grinning, obnoxiously.

_"__I'll keep you guys posted. Go get him."_

_"__Heads up," _Peppy suddenly warned. _"The croc's trying something new."_

One of the tunnels curving from the massive floating fortress suddenly appeared to open up while lines of red lights flashed on and off along its sides.

_"__I have a present for you!" _the gator spoke back up with his surprisingly "yellow" eyes "glowing" in rage from within his video screen. _"Deploy all units. CHARGE!"_

Two spots suddenly began flying out from the open tunnel. But from out of nowhere, a stream of green slammed head on into them, instantly causing them to explode just as a flashing red projectile flew straight into the tunnel. There was a massive explosion which detonated inside the tunnel and caused its frame to split in half and spew giant flares of fire. Fox squinted his eyes once another explosion ripped into the hull of the command ship and suddenly caused the tunnel to break free. It dropped like a giant flaming boulder down to meet the ocean below. More enemy ships that were set to take off fell pathetically along with the debris, perhaps a dozen of them altogether, some with their pilots leaping out from their open cockpits in desperation.

Falco's ship screamed around the command ship while firing shots across its hull, making a turn around its rear to begin another charge.

"Falco, get in formation!"

_"__Hey, you're welcome for saving us from another dogfight."_

_ "__Falco, move or he'll get a lock on you!" _Peppy warned.

But it was too late. Another stream of light shot out form the command ship's guns and another squadron of kamikaze missiles rushed out and began locking on to their targets. Several flew in a direct path for Fox and Peppy. Something came to his memory which caused Fox to keep from changing course. Instead, he pulled down the trigger to his guns and began unleashing a stream of green laser fire out to meet the missiles. Fifty yards away from head-butting the warheads, his shots managed to hit one of their small physiques and erupt an instant blast of light. Its three sisters shook from the concussive force and instantly veered off course, some deactivating and spiraling by out of control.

_"__Shoot!"_ Falco hissed from the radio. _"They're right behind me!"_

_ "__I'll distract his fire,"_ Peppy spoke. _"Boost in and get those missiles off of him."_

Fox turned his course while Peppy sliced through his wake and headed for the front of the command ship, firing a quick volley directly into the missile guns poking out from its front.

_"__Somebody shoot these things!" _Falco yelled as his fighter out in the distance, several hundred yards away from the command ship, spun and spiraled, trying desperately to shake off a heavy swarm of missiles chasing him from the rear.

After accelerating to the tail of the missiles, Fox began to line up the first in his sights. But with Falco constantly flipping around like a circus pilot, there wasn't a clear shot to be found.

_"__For the love of gods and goddesses, Fox!" _Falco began to panic like a child running away from a spanking by his parents. _"Just shoot them! SHOOT THEM!"_

"Hold still, you big chicken!" Fox continued to try and keep his nose directly pointing into Falco's wake and soon, with just a second to spare, he fired a burst and managed to shoot down a small cluster of the missiles, causing the remainders to spin off out of control like the last time.

_"__There's still one left! Shoot it!"_

_ "__I got this!"_

A stream of laser fire that wasn't his own came from below and detonated the missile in a quick flash, and was soon followed by another Arwing dashing right between Falco's tail and Fox's nose, causing Fox to flinch and turn, just barely missing Slippy's crazy pass.

_"__C'mon, say it!"_ Slippy spoke aloud, proudly. _"Slippy saves the day!"_

_For a change, _Fox was tempted to add.

_"__Fox, I could use some help over here," _Peppy added in.

_"__C'mon, Falco,"_ Slippy spoke on, cockily in his high, almost girlish voice. _"Say it."_

Falco spat air into the radio, carelessly. _"Guess I should be thankful."_

_ "__You guess?"_

_ "__Oh, shut up, Slippy."_

_ "__You shut up!"_

"Will you both just shut up and focus on the mission?"

_"__What's taking you so long, Fox?"_ Peppy yelled from back towards the command ship. _"I can't take this guy by myself! Get the hell over here!"_

"Slippy, what'd you learn?" Fox asked as the three of them turned sharp and began rushing back to where gun flashes lit up the mist surrounding the floating command ship.

_ "__That second tunnel, port side," _Slippy answered. _"It isn't another launch tunnel. It's his G-Diffuser. Take it out and he's fish food."_

_"__Conserve your ordinance," _Peppy added while his ship zoomed past the mist temporarily, barely missing contact with a massive round from a gun turret. _"Let's see if we can whittle it down."_

They passed around the command ship that had begun to spew more flames from its dismembered launch tunnel. The missiles had stopped flying and now it was relying on its laser cannons, firing at them like artillery guns attempting to shoot down a small family of flies.

_"__I got something!" _Slippy yelled out while they flew around the ship to avoid its guns. _"I can open the service hatch at the nose of the G-Diffuser. It's small, but if anyone can get a missile in there, this fight's as good as done."_

"I'll take the shot. Falco, Pep – try and get rid of those guns and buy me an opening."

_"__Already on it," _said Falco as he was just making another fast run straight in to meet the command ship.

The bird fired relentlessly onto its gun platforms surrounding its core and erupted several small explosions causing the ship's fire to dwindle in ferocity.

_"__Woohoo!" _Falco was now cheering to himself, his body likely suffocating from too much testosterone. _"Yeah, baby! I live for this!"_

Fox took the chance and spun his own ship away from the target. After making a wide arch, he turned and found himself flying to meet the command ship face to face with just half a mile of space in between.

_ "__You think you're a match against the power of Andross?" _the gator had suddenly returned to the radio's video-screen, sparks lighting the background behind his green-scaled, vicious looking head.

Something sprouted out from the tip of the command ship's nose. Seeing a black hole at the center of its long, gun-like form, Fox instantly realized it _was_ a gun… a bigger one.

_"__Burn, scum!"_ the gator yelled, and with another one of his cliché phrases, the gun suddenly broke into a flash of orange, blinding light that vaporized the light mist in its path. Balls of fire (at least that what they looked like) flew forward in a rapid fire stream. Fox grinded his teeth together while twisting the fighter vertically, the fire balls just brushing past the Arwing's smooth underbelly.

"Do it, Slippy!"

_"__Open wide, Pea-brain!"_

Ahead, Fox could barely see past the gleam of the incoming fireballs a small hole open up just on top the nose of the last remaining tunnel on the command ship. Breaking open that hidden pack of adrenaline inside his chest, he felt his eyes grow wide and time suddenly… slowed down… just as he watched the small black spot cross into his gun sights.

_"__NOOO!" _the gator's voice suddenly yelled into the frequency.

_Later, gator._

Pulling the second trigger, a missile shot free and screamed out through the last remaining space of air between him and the target. Diving down, he heard the boom and felt the vibrations of a heavy explosion erupt just above him where the belly of the command ship passed just a foot away from the top of his cockpit. Another shockwave from a blast exploded out and suddenly a flash of blue light escaped to all sides of the sky like a bubble expanding at the speed of light. He turned around just in time to see the entire G-Diffuser on the command ship explode into massive blue-colored fireball, rocking the entire ship in its crude foundations.

"One missile to each side," Fox spoke out the final order. "Make sure he goes down for good."

_"__Eat this, you bastard!"_ Falco yelled out. Two lines of light darted into both flanks of the giant command ship and erupted explosions around its severed limbs. The gator in the frequency had begun roaring out as his picture in the video-screen began to joggle and drop into static.

Just as Peppy and Falco finished their passes, two more blasts of fire exhumed from the ship's flame bleeding sockets and its altitude began to drop, heavily.

_"__Un… believable…" _the gator spoke up as his ship continued to plummet down within a cloud of rubble and ghastly smoke. _"This… this is impossible!"_

His team continued flying around the perimeter, watching the giant drop into its slow, deathly fall. Fox did the same, watching without blinking or breathing (though at that time he couldn't think about it).

_"__I can't be beaten this easily…" _The gator's face continued to slowly fall into a stream of static. _"Something went wrong…"_

"You were just unlucky enough to run into us," Fox spoke into the frequency. "Nothing personal. It was all just a part of the job."

_"__You'll never defeat him," _the gator continued to speak, his face barely distinguishable in the static filled screen. _"My emperor… I've failed you."_

"I'll be sure to relay that to the good emperor when I meet him." Fox glared into the video-screen, making his face as clear as possible to the gator. "I'm looking forward to it."

_"__Who are you?" _the gator spoke out in a voice that had begun to echo past his breathless throat. _"Who are you guys?"_

"We're Star Fox."

There wasn't an answer from the radio, but Fox could still hear the gator breathing heavily past the static. But as the seconds passed and the altitude of the falling ship's carcass dropped lower and lower, so did the clarity of the frequency. In no time, the ship had dropped into a pit of mist, disappearing from sight, leaving behind just a trail of smaller falling debris and smoke. The screen depicting the gator's face finally dropped into complete static and the radio connected to it began to hiss.

Fox reached up, switching off the screen and gradually sat back, regaining his calm grip on the controls while watching the sky outside with motionless eyes.

_"__Essex, Essex, this is Star Fox," _Peppy took the liberty of making the call. _"Target has been destroyed and the radio waves are clean. Mission accomplished. I repeat. Mission accomplished."_


	23. Chapter 22

**22 -**

The transporter shook and rattled once they entered the atmosphere, but it didn't cause Fox to blink or turn away.

His eyes were watching the blackness of space pass the window which soon became smothered in a glow of flames. He sighed. Space was his natural habitat. He had always held a wondrous fascination with the endless void: strange alien worlds and secrets that eluded the mortal eye were just a couple among the countless marvels to be found in the infinite frontier. He knew so little of it. Bangelor and Meteo were so far away but something inside his head kept telling him "Not _that_ far away". It made this past month feel feeble in comparison to what Dad must've seen back in his day.

_That day's over, Fox._

_Tomorrow's finally here._

Peppy had suddenly begun to snore from the rear and caused him to look back. The hare was in the seat right behind him, his slumbering head hanging over his shoulder while his bad leg was lazily extended out into the aisle, no longer protected by a brace. Fox smirked when a vibration in the transporter's floor caused the hare's front teeth to click and his jaw to open up to another snore.

Across the aisle within the neighboring column of seats, Slippy was looking ahead into empty space, tapping his fat boot to the rhythm of the rock n' roll hissing from his earphones. Just behind him, the cocky face and "colorful" attitude of Falco was filling the air around him with boredom, his frowning beak resting over his propped up arm, careless eyes watching the space outside his window.

The battle for Corneria ended almost as quickly as it began. Three days had passed since they entered the atmosphere with the Arwings, and in just those three days through somewhat unexciting sorties across the globe as a vanguard, the fighting had stopped with the remnants of the invasion force fleeing the atmosphere in a clear, almost direct path to Venom. Calidame had received a heavy blow but was ultimately saved. Places like Janneral weren't as fortunate with ruins, most still burning, marking the gravesites of once proud skyscrapers and homes, hundreds, maybe even thousands of people apparently still buried beneath the rubble.

A victory through a statistical perspective. Fox couldn't help but think back to the academy. One building saved along with the thousands of refugees in it. But what about the buildings that weren't so fortunate? Just how many people were left behind?

_You did all you could,_ Peppy would've likely told him if he asked. _And you did more than what most could've done_

He hadn't seen Calidame since the first day of battle. Reports claimed there was still an occasional firefight here and there around isolated boulevards, but on the whole, everything had settled with most of the Venomians left behind by their fleet surrendering to the battered Cornerian forces.

_"__Entering the capital," _the pilot suddenly spoke through the intercom. _"T-minus one minute."_

This was only the beginning, Fox knew. With Andross no longer being a ghost story, the world would be in a state of panic, just like the general said it would be. The idea of a long, painful aftermath to the battle caused his eyes to drift back to the window in an attempt to blot out the foresight of the immanent chaos to come.

Clouds had begun to rush past the window. A colorless grey filled the sky, neither dark nor bright. It was neutrally still and at peace. Life and death didn't exist in this middle space between black and white.

_All McClouds love the clouds, _Dad used to joke back when he was just a pup. He could see why now. The world was shrouded and absent. Everything seemed to make sense here, since nothing here _had_ to make any sense.

It was during this long gaze he began seeing something arise not very far into the grey. It came through hazy, but to Fox's interest its shape instantly reminded him of an Arwing flying to the transporter's flank like a silent escort. No engine flashes or any other sort of light emitted from its ghostly hull, but as much as Fox wanted to dismiss it for a mirage, he couldn't help but feel it was real.

Dad was watching after him. As bizarre as it felt at first, a thought came to Fox that the old man had always been there, offering his eyes and ears to his disposal. From an assassin holding him at gunpoint to a raging onslaught of space bandits, that unreal sixth sense that had helped keep him alive for the longest month of his life was suddenly explained.

Watching his father's ghost fly outside the window, he didn't know whether or not it was true, or whether or not this hidden gift that helped turn his father into an unbeatable legend had somehow passed itself onto him. His doubt caused the ghost Arwing to gradually disappear into the grey clouds, eventually sending it on its way to the gates of the afterlife.

The moment Dad vanished from sight, the transporter broke through the ceiling of clouds to reveal the darkened world below, as well as the city which he abandoned over a month ago. It was still standing—thank the maker—resting below a shower of rain. It was hard to pick out the damage left behind from the invasion thanks to the haze swelling the air. It was strange to see, at first, since Fox had never witnessed a shower like this – so calm and gentle, as if the planet was intentionally washing itself of its wounds.

They descended lower and lower and soon the sight of skyscrapers began passing his sight, temporarily making him want to look away, grueling the thought of seeing ruins arise in the previous places where spotless white buildings once stood. He looked out anyway, watching dark windows zoom by, eventually passing by more slowly as the transporter began to replace its speed with a more leisurely pace.

Something new suddenly popped into the lifeless environment outside, from several infrastructures standing out close beside the passing neighborhood. There was life to be seen among the lifeless, people standing outside in the rain, appearing to be jumping and waving their arms. Then there were billboard signs, to Fox's bewilderment, some too small for him to see within the raised hands of the passing clusters of people. Others were strung up below lights along the building walls. A larger one hanging from two separate windows that stretched twenty feet in length was written in big, bold words that Fox had no trouble reading:

**Star Fox is Alive**

More people thinking he was his father. As cold as it felt, he couldn't help but grudge the dead man for it. Trying to make a name for himself past an invulnerable legend that had lasted for forty years wasn't a walk in the park. People loved James McCloud, Lylat's homegrown messiah for hire. Everyone wanted to meet him and everyone wanted to be him. Funny to believe several weeks and a dozen life-and-death scenarios later, he got a wish come true. He was now the McCloud everybody knew – no longer that cocky, shadow of a son nobody knew.

**WELCOME BACK FOX**

The words suddenly passed through his gaze and caused him to turn. It passed his sight before he could double check it and he was about to dismiss it, believing some idiot in the growing crowd over the infrastructure network forgot to add "Star" into his sign. But then it came again like déjà vu, but it wasn't worded the same.

**Welcome home Fox!**

And then it came again in force.

**The Son has returned**

**Hope still lives on after death**

**Thank you, Fox McCloud**

More signs continued to pass his gaze but his vision had already begun to blur. The reality hit him like a stray ball to the head. From behind he suddenly felt something nudge his seat. He looked back and saw Peppy with his eyes open and his fuzzy lips grinning.

The hare didn't say anything, but his old, relaxed face spoke for itself.

_Your father would be proud of you._

Fox sat back and glanced back one more time to the outside, then allowed his gaze to turn back to the empty space in front of him. The rain-soaked crowds outside continued to wave and cheer from the corner of his eye, but his mind had begun to drift back to the days he remembered best, along with his family's one and only picture, of Dad standing atop the wing of his fighter, little Fox himself hoisted up onto his shoulder, smiling blissfully, Dad only grinning victoriously with his immortal eyes resting in peace behind his favorite sunglasses.

Those days were over. Tomorrow was just beginning.

_These are the days that define a lifetime._

Fox allowed himself to close his eyes, seizing the moment to rest.


	24. Epilogue

**Epilogue -**

The shuttle descended through the clouds and softly drifted into a boulevard leading up to where the capital tower lied awaiting the return of a prodigal son, in so many words.

Even past the haze rising from the humidity, Wolf could pick out the transporter perfectly, along with the two fighters escorting it from the front and rear. He watched from a distance with his fur soaking in the rain, his long dusty green jacket blowing with a surprisingly "peaceful" breeze.

"How long have I followed you?" his partner spoke calmly past the hissing rain.

"A good many years, old friend," he answered while his unflinching eyes began to grow wet from moisture.

"Have I once doubted you as a leader?"

Wolf took in a deep breath while his stone face didn't put off a single emotion apart from apathy. "No, Leon. You haven't."

"Then you already know what I wish to say." The chameleon stepped forward with the grey hood of his jacket covering the majority of his identity.

Back down within the labyrinth of towers and ruins, the transporter had entered into the courtyard of the capital tower where a massing crowd of thousands had begun to fill the hissing air with cheers of victory and praise.

"What separates legend from infamy, Leon?" he spoke past his stalwart snout. "The legendary are celebrated. The infamous are burned."

"If we do not end this right now, we will be burning ourselves." His reptilian comrade turned his head. Both of his small eyes stared out to him past the shadow of his hood. "Unless there is something that you know which I do not."

"Memories, old friend," he answered, simply. "Memories of old."

"The sort of memories we agreed to ignore?"

Wolf began to smirk, enough that several of his fangs slipped past his lower lip, and eventually he broke into an uncontrollable chuckle that whistled from behind his closed teeth.

"I wouldn't have followed you for so long if I didn't find you so fascinating, boss," Leon added past emotionless lips. "For what's it worth, I'm most curious of how this game will end."

"The game we once knew is changing."

"Ah, but only the players have changed, yes?"

Wolf glanced to Leon and spared another smirk. "Stay the course and follow to where the chain leads?"

"And hope to whatever gods may be that this chain is unbreakable."

"Thank you, Leon."

"Always a pleasure, Wolf."

They looked back to the misty horizon, continuing to ignore the rain drenching their hides beneath their dusty clothes.

"If you don't mind me saying," the chameleon spoke up while looking upon the far but not so far away hero of the day. "He reminds me of you."

Following the reptile's words, Wolf suddenly felt something begin to churn beneath his chest. It was a sullen, disturbing feeling which caused the tenseness in his jaw to loosen and his eyes to suddenly blink once or twice… or thrice.

"Old friend?" Leon spoke back, obviously seeing something strange begin to develop in his face.

"Get back to the ship," he spoke in the form of an order. "We leave as soon as I arrive."

The chameleon watched him for a moment, but soon turned to begin walking towards the opposite side of the roof, making casual progress back the way they came. Wolf continued to stand at the ledge, looking down the long, dark scale of the tower below. The sight alone didn't scare him at all. In fact, it felt comforting.

_"__Death becomes his ally,"_ he recited the words of a dead foe.

Looking one last time to where the crowds of the city cheered and celebrated under a steady shower of rain, Wolf turned to begin his own walk back. For the first time in a long time, he frowned and began to remember the story of his own life.

A story carved into a bloody, forgotten stone.

* * *

_**Hope y'all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think! The major reason I published this was to get actual feedback on my work (considering I currently got a good number of original works in the making that I'm pushing to publish). This is, of course, Book 1 in the Generations trilogy.  
**_

_**I'll only upload Book 2,**_**Star Fox: Dark Tails****,**_** if I get enough feedback for Book 1**__** (wink-wink).**_


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